The Game
by LiliaLolita
Summary: Mistel wasn't too happy about it, but he couldn't help but to be infatuated with the new farm girl. Everyone knew it, even his sister. Apparently Fritz was oblivious, as always, and had kissed the girl-and Mistel seen it. Now she was acting unlike herself, flirting with him as she had never done before. Was this just a game to her? Was she trying to break his heart?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Ahhh, finally! A story about my favorite bachelor. A place where I can put all my Fritz hatred! Okay, fine, I just kinda hate Fritz. He made me water his crops, that I will never forget or forgive. Anyway... There aren't any Mistel chapter stories?! (None I could find, anyway) That's insane. Like super insane. /Why/? I don't know, but here ya go. (Rhymes...) I really wanted to improve on my writing before I wrote this, I just imagine Mistel fans would be very picky, and am proud to say that I have. There's still room for improvement—there is always room for improvement—but hopefully you will find this more agreeable than my past writing if you are familiar with it._

 _Annie's name has been changed to Beatrice. I like that name. It's cool. Don't diss on my names. I considered Charlotte or Raven, but Beatrice really speaks to me for some reason. So I don't care if it's an old lady name! I like it. After thinking about it...Is it still even Annie if you change the name? Does it become an OC after that? Is Annie not someone you can turn into whoever you would like? Weird. I'm gonna leave it at Annie in the tags..._

 _I start all my stories at T because I don't trust myself, but surely this will be M before I even know it because I am incompetent human being who cannot write a love story without it getting smutty sooner than later. BUT. But—it will also be bitter and sad probably because I am a bitter person. This will NOT be fluff, though. I am sick of fluff and I will never write it again. I haven't really decided if it's going to be angst or drama, though, so for now it's just romance and a bitter Mistel. Expect angst /and/ drama. By the way, like the dramatic chessboard photo I have as the picture? Haha I crack myself up._

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Mistel tentatively stood behind his counter at the antique shop, waiting for something, _anything_ to happen. Today had been one of the most boring days of the whole short lived Fall season and he could not wait for it to be over. He already dusted every single thing in the shop, and it wasn't even four o'clock yet. Not a single customer came into the shop all day. Klaus visited, but it wasn't as a customer, he just came to see his sister. He wasn't stupid, he knew he wasn't there to peruse the antiques, he would rather peruse Iris—and that's just what he did after a short conversation on the weather, he excused himself to go upstairs and distract his sister from writing her new novel. He could vaguely recall her mentioning that is was about a doomed love story, one of unrequited love. He chuckled dryly to himself. They were all doomed, how could she not see that?

 _She_ didn't even visit today, and he was glad. He knew just one look at her would turn his expression sour. That was a lie. One look at her would make him elated for about a second, _then_ it would turn sour. She probably wouldn't even notice and just go over to his bookshelf to smell the oldest of them. That's what she usually did, at least. Sometimes she would stay and play a game of chess, but she wasn't very good at it and would often get angry at losing. He liked that look, the one where he knew he had to of had a smug look of his own at viewing the owner's face so defeated. He just didn't find it so triumphant when _she_ looked that way, it made him want to go against all of his beliefs and let her win just to see her face light up in victory.

 _That_ look he had only seen a handful of times on her face, but when he did see it his own didn't twist into one of failure as it usually would when seeing his opponent victorious; he couldn't help but to smile with her. After all, she had beat him, fair and square. At least, that's what he told himself. He didn't want to admit that he was just happy to see a smile on her face, that would just be ridiculous. Why would seeing someone else happy make _him_ happy? That made no sense, even if it did come from a pretty girl with big eyes. He had seen plenty of pretty girls beat him at chess, but only _she_ seemed to have that effect on him.

He didn't like that. It made his stomach squirm knowing she had an effect on him at all. She had no right, and she didn't even know she was doing it. That was what really dug at him. She would skip in all bubbly and cheerful, chocolate colored hair bouncing and red eyes searing, flash her brilliant smile at him and start talking in her sing-song voice about something or another; all the while his heart would be fluttering—despite himself. If she did notice she didn't act any differently, or say anything to indicate that she had. She would just stand there, her ruby eyes burning into his brain while she waited for a rebuttal that she would never get, because while she had been talking he hadn't heard a word; too busy trying to get his heart to settle and her eyes out of his head.

Then she would laugh loudly after an uncomfortable silence, ask if he had anything new, skip over to his bookshelf and smell them, present him with a butterfly—then leave never knowing just that simple act had made his day. He hated that. After she left he would shake his head that was now clear due to her not being in his presence, but undoubtedly less happy, and sigh loudly. Iris would usually run downstairs and ask what was wrong—she had heard through the thin walls—and he would always say nothing was wrong, that she should go back to her work and stop worrying about him.

That was a lie, though. _Everything_ was wrong, how could she not see that? _She_ had left and in doing so had left a hole in his heart, one that would never be filled now that she had a boyfriend, a boyfriend that _wasn't_ him. Well, he wasn't sure if _he_ was her boyfriend but he did know he had seen _his_ lips upon hers. That was all he had seen, though, as he had ran away as quick as his legs would carry him. It was his worst nightmare, and his heart had broken a little with every step he took away from them.

He had went to see Giorgio to pick up his order of flowers—or rather _her_ favorite flowers—apparently they didn't usually grow them in town and Giorgio had to specialty order the seeds. Who would have known that the town didn't usually grow yellow roses, that was just strange to him. Then on his way back the corner of his eye had caught red hair, then red eyes, then a shut of them as the redheaded boy's lips found hers. He wouldn't think either of their names, it would just sound bitter and prove to disgust him even further.

Needless to say the flowers never found their way to her, as he had dropped them at the sight of _them_ together in such a way and hardly gave a second thought about the flowers. How could he, when he had _them_ in his head now? It consumed his every waking thought. _They_ would never last, it was a doomed romance, even if it was requited love. That was, at least, what he had to tell himself to stop from perishing due to a broken heart. That would never do. If he was going to die it would have nothing to do with either of _them_.

He gave a slight jump when he heard two knocks on his door, then an abrupt opening of it. _Speak of the devil._ He would never understand that. Why would she knock on it if she was just going to open the door anyway? Why would someone knock on a shops' door in the first place? It made no sense, but then again, _she_ made no sense. It was her first visit since he had seen _them_ , which was two days ago, and he was really hoping she would never visit again. He never seemed to get his way, though, and that was probably why she was here—just to rub it in.

In spite of himself he felt his blood run cold when her eyes pierced his, skipping over to his counter no matter how many times he told her not to skip in an antique shop. She pulled her long ponytail over her shoulder, as she often did, and ran her hands through her brunette locks as she said in a sing-song voice, "Hello, Mistel."

"Hello, Bee," he said, his voice quivering slightly—notwithstanding his demure attitude.

"Bee?" she asked confusingly, the most perplexed of looks upon her face. "You don't usually call me that."

"Well, I suppose I do now," he said more bitterly than he wished he had.

"Alright... Well, as I said before, I really don't mind if you call me by my full name if you prefer it."

"I think your _boyfriend_ would mind if I called you by a name that only _I_ used. I fear he will get the wrong impression."

"My boyfriend?" She looked horror stricken for about a second, then lifted her head up, her chiming laughter filling the room.

"Your boyfriend," he remarked dryly. What kind of game was she playing?

"I do not _have_ a boyfriend, so it seems _you_ have gotten the wrong impression."

He felt his lips twitch into a smile, but quickly composed himself, saying in his usual teasing voice, "I see. So you just kiss all the boys in town? When will I get my turn? _Please_ , do not tell me I'm the last. I would have thought that would be Fritz, but I see now that I was mistaken."

He watched as her face turned bright crimson, her lips compressed into a straight line. He liked that look, but liked it a little less knowing he wasn't the only one who got to see it. "Oh, so you heard about that," she sighed. "Who told you? I told him not to tell anyone."

"No one told me. I saw it with my own two eyes." _My eyes that I would like to pluck right out of my skull_.

"Well your eyes have mistaken you," she said flatly. "He kissed me, _I_ did not kiss him."

"Oh?" He felt a wrath beginning to build inside of him, and smiled sweetly. "Then that means I have no choice but to shove his head _right_ into the pavement the next time I see him."

"I really wish you wouldn't!" she pleaded, her eyes wide in fear. "He already had his ears chewed off, he doesn't need that, as well."

"So you are defending him for his inexcusable behavior?" he fiercely asked.

"I am not," she said, sighing deeply. "I only wish that you would keep your hands to yourself."

"Perhaps I would keep my hands to myself if _he_ could keep his hands to himself."

"Two wrongs do not make a right, Mistel," she sang, crossing the room and going over to his bookshelf, pulling out the oldest of them. She had a knack for that, or rather would just take out her favorite of the lot. It was the saddest book he had ever read, and he had to stop reading in the middle. He couldn't see where the story was going, and he didn't like that. She opened the book and hid her face in it, inhaling deeply. A wide grin spread across her face as she lifted her head back up, and he found that the smile was contagious.

"So? When do I get mine?" he asked sweetly, beaming at her with his hands tightly clasped behind his back.

"Your what?" She put the book back in its respectful place then placed a hand upon her hip, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

"My kiss, of course!" He chuckled loudly at seeing the heat rise back into her face.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to steal that like Fritz did, that isn't something I just give away freely," she replied darkly.

"Ah, that will never happen, then. I am not some foolish barbarian who just goes around kissing everyone without asking first. That is an absurd thing to do, and is something that is just going to get your head shoved into the pavement."

"Then I suppose you're just going to have to ask, then," she said teasingly, walking past him and examining something on his wall.

"Excuse me?" he hastened to ask. He wasn't sure if he had heard her correctly, or if this was just a cruel dream he was going to wake up from any second—that he was correct, that her and Fritz were dating, that they were getting married, in fact, and already built a family together with only their lifelong happiness to look forward to.

"Ask," she said, turning around to face him and looking him up and down. "If you would like a kiss, just ask."

"Do you say that to all the boys?" He quirked an eyebrow and laughed loudly, but cringed inwardly. He was never going to get a kiss if he kept acting like a jealous lover. "Nonetheless, I want a kiss far less than you think I do, Beatrice."

"Oh? Am I Beatrice again?" she giggled. "Ideally, we would be dating first, but since that seems like it's never going to happen if you want a kiss I will happily give you one."

He was dreaming—he knew it in his heart of hearts. There was no way that his Beatrice was talking of such things. "I would like a kiss, then," he said firmly. If she was going to play this game, then he was, too.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to ask better than that," she teased, taking a step closer to him.

If this was a dream he hoped he would never wake up. He felt his heart quicken as he took a step closer to her, asking, "So I am who you would rather kiss?"

"You are," she hummed. Her cheeks turned a slight hue of pink, a coy smile adorning her face, and he cursed his mind as the word _adorable_ ran through it with a relentless passion. He enjoyed this look much more than the last, and hoped Fritz never had a chance to see it.

"I see..." he trailed, trying his best to get his heart to stop pounding so quickly. "If that is the case, may I kiss you, then?"

"You may," she replied in her usual sing-song voice, but it quivered slightly.

He put a hand to her face and gazed into her ruby eyes; they were unflinching, fierce. They were not the eyes of a liar. "Goodness, you are going to give me a heart attack."

"I'm waiting," she giggled, bouncing from her heels to the tips of her toes.

"You are going to have to stop moving." She instantly stopped the moment the words slipped from his tongue. She gazed back at him with an intensity in her stare, and he feared his heart was going to jump right from his chest. "So... you like me?" he asked with uncertainty in his voice. "As in, you _like_ like me? Like, as a man? As a man you like, like? Like—"

Beatrice put a finger to his mouth and shushed him with the most sly smile on her face. "If you say that word one more time you're going to give _me_ a heart attack."

"So...you do?"

She looked away for a moment and sighed loudly, "I may...does it matter?"

"I suppose it doesn't..." It mattered a lot to him, but he wasn't about to say that if it didn't matter at all to her.

"If you don't kiss me soon _I_ am going to have to kiss _you_ ," she sang, and started swaying again.

Mistel gently grasped her forearms to stop her pestering movements. "Fine, but you must close your eyes." She complied, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. It was a lot easier now that she wasn't looking at him with those _eyes_. He put his hands on either side of her face and noticed that it was heated still. _Good_. He felt a lot better knowing that he made her nervous, or flustered, it didn't matter; as long as he knew he made her feel _something_.

He heard her swallow hard as he leaned in, tilting his head slightly—his heart pounding in his ears and his hands trembling on her arms. It was unfair, this effect that she had on him. Certainly an unfair advantage in this idiotic game they were playing. Parting his lips, he barely felt hers brush along his when he heard a creak on the stairs and Iris try to stifle a giggle. He straightened his spine and yelled slightly, "Sister, may I ask what you're doing?"

"Oh, nothing," Iris sang, rounding the corner and leaning against the wall, her arms crossed causally below her chest. "Bee, you can open your eyes now, I don't think he's going to kiss you anymore."

"Oh, yes, of course," Beatrice sputtered, her chest heaving slightly as she took a step backward while her face turned beet red.

He crossed his arms and fiercely glared at Iris, growling, "I hope there is a very good reason for why you interrupted us."

"Soften your stare, brother!" Iris laughed. "Do you want your face to stay that way? I just came to see my two favorite people, and to tell Bee that I would like to speak with her once you're done with your little..." She paused, looking them both up and down. "Chat."

"What would you like to speak to her _about_?"

Iris opened her eyes wide and said in the most innocent tone she could muster, "Nothing in particular, brother. We often have our little talks, don't we, Bee?"

"We do," Beatrice replied in a low tone, nodding her head slightly.

"We do! So it is none of your concern."

"Sister..." he warned, clutching his hands into fists at his sides so tight his knuckles turned white. " _Fine_ , but I will be listening."

"That is unnerving, brother," Iris laughed, turning around the corner to walk back up the stairs. "Listen all you would like, we have matters we need to discuss. Just send her up when you are done."

He turned his attention back to Beatrice and huffed loudly. "I'm sorry for the interruption. It seems the mood has been broken..."

"So it seems it has," she sighed dramatically. "I suppose I'll just have the taste of Fritz's lips in my mouth for a little longer."

"Oh? Is that why you wanted to kiss me, just to get his taste out of your mouth?" he asked bitterly.

"Perhaps..." she cockily said, walking past him to the staircase. "Or perhaps I just would rather have _your_ taste lingering on my tongue."

Her ruby eyes met his violet ones with a spark and he stood there, gaping at her, for what felt like five minutes. He was certain now that something must have possessed her, there was no way his Beatrice would be talking like this. "Perhaps does not sound very...certain. Please be more forward with your words," he said after a minute.

"I'm trying to, but it appears that you cannot take a hint."

"So it appears I cannot..." he whispered, barely audible. She batted her long lashes at him, and he wasn't sure if she was doing it on purpose or if she was just that naïve.

"If it makes you feel any better, our barely-a-kiss was much more enjoyable than Fritz's kiss. He stuck his tongue in my mouth, and it tasted like grass!" Beatrice exclaimed, sticking her tongue out slightly in disgust.

"That is because he is a boy, whereas I am a man, Beatrice. I assure you that our kiss would have been marvelous and passionate," he said earnestly, but with a slight hint of teasing in his tone.

Her cheeks turned a shade that almost matched her eyes, and she put a hand in front of her mouth as she murmured, "I-I'm sure it would have been." Mistel grinned mischievously at her, she was being far too adorable today. "Oh!" she gasped. "By the way, remind me that I have a butterfly to give you before I leave." She shook her rucksack slightly that was hanging off her shoulder.

"Of course," he said, his grin turning devilish. He tapped his elegant glass terrarium on the counter on his left which he had taken to putting the butterflies in that she gifted him. "You haven't gifted me with one in a couple of days, they seem to be getting quite lonely without any new friends."

"I'm sorry... I, uh, have been quite busy the last couple of days," she sputtered, her face turning slightly guilt stricken. He decided to ignore it, rather then to question why she looked ashamed. He didn't want to know the answer.

"That's quite all right. I suppose I have just grown accustomed to seeing your adorable face everyday," he teased, and building up some confidence that was no doubt due to everything that just took place, he gave her a small wink.

"As have I," Beatrice whispered, the heat still in her cheeks. "Well, I will see you soon."

She started walking up the stairs and he called after her, "Keep in mind, I will be listening!"

He heard her let out a little gasp and her footsteps stomping loudly on the stairs as she began to run up them. He chuckled loudly, then sighed. Now that he couldn't see her anymore his head was clear, and he wasn't sure how to comprehend everything that had happened. Did she like him? Did she just want him? Or was this a just game to her? Could she not see that he was smitten with her, that he may even love her?

Now that he couldn't see her face the hole in his heart had formed again, a longing ache in it that made him feel ill. This was a game, he was sure of it. A game that he knew he was going to lose. He had placed his queen right in the middle of the board with no other pieces around to protect it, just waiting for one of her pawns to seize it up at any moment—and she was playing with no strategy, no thought in her actions as she always did. No matter how much thought he put into every action, every move, her spontaneity was sure to win over his logical reason. She was too adorable, and he knew she would destroy him.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This chapter is slightly odd, but I like it. It's kind of a get to know Beatrice's personality chapter at first. It also has Iris's white heart event (slightly tweaked) and Beatrice recalling Fritz's first Rivalry event (also slightly tweaked), then her recalling the first time she met Mistel. Hmm Okay, maybe I should add drama to the genre, because after rereading the chapter and thinking about the next couple, I've realized it's going to be really dramatic._

 _I usually don't give last name's to the characters, but thought Mistel and Iris should have one for this particular story. I think they kinda look Russian, so I'm gonna give them a Russian last name._

 _Also, I am such a nerd that I take notes on the dates and which days are which, so in case you were wondering it's Tuesday 25_ _th_ _(of fall, if you don't remember that from last chapter)_

 _Not extremely happy with this chapter; but I hope you like it, please review and let me know what you thought of it!_

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Beatrice could hear Mistel chuckling as she ran up the stairs—trembling to the very ends of her fingertips while her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. The taste of his breath lingered in her mouth, which smelt of fruit jam and herb tea, and she found herself enjoying the scent much more than Fritz's grassy taste. The heat stayed in her face as recalled the way his lips had felt when they barely grazed along hers, more soft than she had expected, and felt a little irritated at Iris for interrupting them. It had been awhile since the last time she had a good kiss, and from her experiences from kissing others she could tell that Mistel's kiss would have been more than just good, but great.

Most of the boys she had kissed before had immediately began to lustfully kiss her, whereas Mistel had taken the time to prolong the kiss, his violet eyes intensely gazing into hers with his warm hand upon her cheek; a look so loving and soft that she had never seen before in a boys' eyes before a kiss. Then when he had insisted she close her eyes she had felt her heart flutter, sensing his head moving closer to hers. She could tell he had been nervous, feeling his hands quivering on her arms, but had been rather nervous herself.

As she mounted the last step and rounded the corner she saw Iris at her writing table, appearing to be deep in thought. Beatrice took a step closer to her, causing the floorboard to creak, and upon hearing it Iris turned her head slightly to look at her. "I'm sorry, Bee, I wasn't aware you would be done with your chat so soon. My mind is just bursting with inspiration right now, and I must write the words down before I forget. Could I ask you to wait a few minutes?"

"Yes, of course, no problem at all," Beatrice replied with a smile. She was glad Iris wasn't ready yet, as she wanted more time to ponder everything that had just taken place.

"Wonderful! I shouldn't be more than ten minutes at the most, please take a seat," Iris said sweetly, gesturing to her dining area.

She nodded her head as Iris turned hers back to her work and walked over to one of the sofas, carefully tucking her dress underneath her as she sat. Her hands were still trembling as she folded them on her lap, twiddling her thumbs nervously and taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. She felt immensely embarrassed by the events that had just transpired. Her actions were unlike her usual self, she never usually flirted with anyone, as she was rather shy and lacked confidence. She wasn't completely sure if she even knew _how_ to flirt, and had recently went to ask for advice.

On Sundays Beatrice would usually have tea with Lillie, and had built up enough nerve to talk to her about it last Sunday. She would have went to Iris for advice, but feared that she would tease her and ask if she had Mistel in mind with wanting to improve her flirting skills. She wasn't a good liar, as a large grin would spread across her lips whenever she did, and she didn't want Iris to know that she had a crush on her brother; thinking it would be awkward and knowing that she would probably tell Mistel—which would no doubt make her die from embarrassment.

When she had explained to Lillie how she flirted—smiling sweetly and bringing up conversations about books and things she had learned from said books and found interesting—Lillie had giggled and said, "I've never had a boyfriend before, and am really shy, too, but even _I_ know that isn't flirting!"

"What _is,_ then? I've never had to flirt before, the boys had always came to me..." she had trailed, hoping it didn't sound like she was bragging.

Lillie had put a finger to her chin and thought for a moment, then said, "Iris had given me advice before on the subject. She told me that flirting is a very delicate process, that you have to let the man know that you are interested in them by giving them gifts that they enjoy and talking about things they find interesting. She said that was only the first step, though."

"Well, what's next?" Beatrice had asked.

"Well, then she said you should make sure you are looking them in the eyes when you're speaking with them, and to touch their arm," Lillie had laughed. "If you can build up the nerve!"

Beatrice had scowled at her, hissing, "Don't tease me!"

"Okay, okay. Iris also told me that drawing attention to your body can be a good form of flirting, like licking your lips or running your hands through your hair, since that would draw his eyes to them—and if he looks at your lips when you do it then that means he wants to kiss you!" Lillie had giggled, her cheeks a pink hue no doubt due to the topic they were discussing.

"Okay... That's a good start, but is there anything more I should know?" Beatrice had inquired, wanting to know everything she could. Although she read a lot of books, she preferred sad love stories and classic novels, which didn't help much in teaching her flirting skills.

Lillie had laughed loudly, "Yes, there is more! You must really fancy someone to want to know so much! Can I know who it is, Bee?" She had raised an eyebrow, beaming at her.

"Uh, um, I don't really want to tell anyone just yet," she had murmured, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"That's fine, I'm sure I'll find out soon enough!" Lillie had laughed. "All right, so this is the rest of what Iris had told me. She said that you should compliment him on things he's good at and his looks, like if you enjoy the color of his eyes, or a trait that you find appealing about him. Make sure you lean in close and lower your voice if you're complimenting his eyes and gaze into them, though! She said it makes it seem more intimate and sexy that way. Iris also told me about a sneaky tactic of flirting, that you should tell the man his necktie or collar is crooked, and stare directly into his eyes as you adjust it while casually brushing your fingers against his skin, then sweetly smile and say 'All better'! Apparently it drives them crazy!

"Then—"

Beatrice had cut her off, her face bright crimson as she frantically exclaimed, "That should suffice, Lillie!" She had then lowered her voice and said, "But, thank you, Lillie, that was very helpful." She still wasn't positive if she would even be able to work up the nerve to flirt like that, but thought perhaps she would be able to do the most casual of the things Lillie had listed. They had stopped talking about the subject after that, as Beatrice had asked Lillie if she had a crush on anyone, which had made Lillie blush madly and quickly change the subject.

Beatrice cast her eyes to Iris, seeing that she was still writing in her notebook. She was relieved to see she still wasn't finished yet, as she still needed more time to think. She longingly hoped she hadn't scared Mistel away with her flirting, thinking that she had came on to him too strong. She knew she should have started off with casual flirting at first, but she just didn't want him to think that she liked Fritz. When she had heard how bitter his voice sounded when he thought Fritz was her boyfriend her confidence had grown, and then when she had seen the hurt in his violet eyes when he told her about how he had seen Fritz kiss her she decided it would be best to flirt with him in a more direct manner.

She just wasn't expecting that her teasing would have such an effect on him. Although Mistel often teased her, she had thought it was just in a friendly manner. She wasn't so certain anymore. He had sounded so unsure when he had asked if she liked him that she felt her heart clench. She was too nervous at the time to tell him, and hoped that asking if it mattered hadn't destroyed the chance of them ever being together.

She winced, recalling the incident with Fritz that had taken place two days prior. She had stopped by to see him after she had tea with Lillie, and he had said to her that she was no doubt there to find out the secret of running a successful farm, then telling her that her greatest rival was him. Although he had said it in a joking manner, it still pissed her off slightly. She knew her farming skills were far superior to his, but had been intrigued when he said that he had a special way of watering crops, and she had reluctantly followed him to let him show her how. She was almost positive that there wasn't a secret way to water crops, but didn't want to miss the opportunity on the off chance that there was.

When he had shown her how he watered his crops she had given him a strange look, as he watered them the same exact way that she did. Fritz had told her to give it a go, and she had sighed and watered one of his plots. He told her that it wasn't too bad, although that her form was a bit stiff—which had made her blood boil—and had said she should water another plot for practice. She did, and Fritz had enthusiastically told her she was getting better. He had then asked her to water some of his other fields so that her form would improve, and before she even knew it she had ended up watering all of his crops for him.

It exhausted and angered her, as she still had work of her own to do, and when Fritz had noticed he said, "Wow, I guess you ended up doing all my watering for me, but all that practice has allowed you to perfect the secret watering technique passed down by the old masters!" He had laughed with his hands on his hips, beaming at her.

"I've already mastered the craft, Fritz, and you tricked me into doing all of your work!" she had thundered, scowling at him. "You are such an idiot! You better give me a good apology, otherwise I am going to punch you square in the face!"

Fritz had looked startled, and had hastily said, "I'm so, _so_ sorry! I didn't mean to upset ya so much, I just thought you could use the practice, is all. Let me make it up to you! I'll cook ya a dinner on Saturday, how's that sound?"

" _Fine_ , but it better be good!"

"I may not look it, but I can handle household chores with the best of 'em!" Fritz had boomed, a very angry look upon his face.

"Okay, okay, calm down!" Beatrice had insisted, putting a hand to his arm. His cheeks reddened at the contact, and she had cringed, realizing that she had performed one of the flirting techniques.

"Oh, uh, sorry for yellin'," Fritz had stammered, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"It's fine," she had said softly. "I'm just not the biggest fan of loud noises."

After a moment Fritz had put his gloved hand to her cheek, intensely gazing into her ruby eyes while he whispered, "Y'know, you're quite a beaut. I'm sure any man would love to date ya."

Beatrice had felt heat rise in her face, as she was used to being called adorable rather than beautiful, and murmured back, "Thanks Fritz, that was rather sweet of you to say."

Fritz had then leaned in close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face, and without any warning firmly pressed his lips to hers. She had froze in shock, her body tense as Fritz clumsily moved his mouth with hers. Although she didn't fancy him, she had began to kiss him back. She could tell it was his first kiss, as he kissed her with evident inexperience in his movements. She wasn't sure what had came over her to allow him to kiss her—and at the time was really wishing that she was kissing Mistel instead—but it had been nearly five seasons since her last kiss and she missed the thrill and joy it brought her knowing that someone desired her.

Fritz had then began to kiss her hungrily, and she let out a little gasp, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue in her mouth. She had immediately pulled back and harshly pushed him from her, furiously growling, "What the hell was that, Fritz?! You just kissed me out of no where, then stuck your tongue in my mouth! What gives you the right?"

Fritz's face had turned bright crimson with an ashamed looked sprawled across his face as he cried, "I'm such an idiot! You just looked so beautiful, I lost control! Can ya forgive me, please? I promise I won't ever do it again!"

"Fine! But that dinner better be the best meal I've ever tasted," she had scoffed, turning on her heel and sauntering away from him. Right before she had reached the Piedmont area's bridge her eye had caught something yellow on the ground. She had looked down to see a bouquet of yellow roses unceremoniously laid upon the grass, looking slightly askew as if someone had grasped them tightly in their hand before throwing them to the ground. She had fond it odd that they were there, knowing that the town didn't usually grow them, and bent her body slightly to pick them up—they were her favorite, and she wasn't about to let perfectly beautiful flowers go to waste. She had taken them back to her farm and put them in her vase at her bedside. The past two days she had awoken to the sight of them, and upon seeing them her face would light up, knowing in her heart that the day would be a good one.

Beatrice gasped loudly, realizing that she hadn't told anyone but Mistel that yellow roses were her favorite. Iris turned to her at the sound and asked, "Are you all right, Bee?" She nodded her head in response, feeling heat rising quickly up her face. "I'll be finished in five minutes, please forgive me for making you wait so long," Iris said apologetically, turning back to her work. Beatrice was relieved she still had more time to think, now knowing why Mistel had the pained look in his eyes.

She felt her heart sink into her stomach. _He_ had gone through all the trouble just to gift her with her favorite flowers—which no doubt cost a great deal of money—and _she_ had kissed a boy she didn't even like just because she craved affection; and worst of all, he had seen it. She was almost certain now that Mistel did fancy her, and felt so terribly awful that he had viewed the scene. She knew that if she had seen him kissing another that it would make her feel like she was going to vomit.

Beatrice had developed a crush on him shortly after arriving in town. She didn't particularly like any of the other bachelors. Although she thought Raeger handsome, he bored her. He never seemed to have anything interesting to say, and whenever she spoke to him about books he would always have a glazed look over his eyes, as if he was just pretending to be listening. She thought Klaus handsome as well, but felt like she was too young for him, as she was only nineteen. He also frightened her slightly, thinking him rather intense, and even though Iris insisted that they weren't together she was smart enough to know that they were—she could tell just by the way they looked at each other. She thought Fritz cute, but he was a fool and very simpleminded, and she preferred boys that were intelligent, ones that she could have interesting conversations with.

She felt her lips twitch into a small smirk as she recalled the first time she met Mistel. It had been the first day she went out to meet her neighbors, and the antique shop was one of the last places she had visited that day. As soon as she walked in she noticed how young he looked, and thought that he was her age or perhaps slightly younger. She had just found out two weeks ago—on his birthday—that he was actually a year and a half of a season older than her, her birthday being on the the fourteenth of Winter. Although he looked young, she had still thought him to be quite cute and dapper looking. She looked rather young herself, baby fat still in her rosy cheeks with a round face, and her enormous innocent eyes didn't help much in making her appear her age.

As she approached him she took in his demeanor. She had found herself enjoying the way he held himself, his arms casually behind his back while he stood nonchalantly yet still with a gentlemanly way in his posture. His aura held a debonair air in it, but his eyes had a mischievous glint in them; and when they had met hers she had felt a spark. She found herself feeling bashful at the sensation, but held her gaze—his eyes intrigued her, she had never met someone with violet eyes before.

"Welcome, welcome. Is this the first time you've paid me a visit?" he had said when she had reached the counter. She gave a slight nod, and he continued, "You are Beatrice, right? Ah, and what a face to go with such a splendid name. It's my pleasure to meet you."

She had felt her heart flutter at the words, and thought involuntarily, _The pleasure is all mine_. She would never have the nerve to actually say it. Instead she gave a coy smile and replied, "You can call me Bee, if you would like; that's what my friends call me."

"If it's all the same to you my preference would be to call you Beatrice. Why distort such a beautiful name by shortening it?" he had retorted, giving a small grin himself.

She had felt heat rise in her face, and his grin widened. She enjoyed the way he spoke, as if he put careful thought into every word he uttered. "If that is what you would wish, although you may be the only one who calls me that—I've already told pretty much everyone else to call me Bee."

"Ah, then that gives me a certain intimacy with you that only I have the pleasure of having," he had said teasingly, subsequently causing her blush to deepen.

"And may I inquire yours?" she had asked after a moment and a prolonged gaze.

"My what?" he had returned in perplexity, his eyes widening for a second.

"Your name, of course!" she had giggled.

"O-oh, of course," he had sputtered, then quickly composed himself. "My name is Mistel, and I am the proprietor of this shop."

She had considered him for several moments, then said, "An interesting name to compliment such an interesting person. May I ask what you sell?"

She could have sworn she saw his cheeks redden slightly, and he quickly replied, "Mostly antiques that my sister and I have collected from our travels. Have you met her yet?"

"No, why?"

"I'm certain she will like you, she has a fondness for people with spunky attitudes," he had said with a mischievous smirk.

Beatrice had then noticed a shelf across the room that held at least a dozen books and had fought the urge to run over to them. Mistel must have noticed that her eye had caught them, for he had inquired, "Ah, do you have a fondness for books? My sister will really like you, then. She's a novelist."

"Yes, I do," Beatrice had stated simply. "Perhaps I have read one of her books, what's her name?"

"Iris Petrov."

"Oh! I'm a fan of hers, I particularly like her book about the utopian dystopia."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear that. It's one of her favorites, actually."

"So, Miss Veronica told me that I should give gifts to people in order to befriend them," Beatrice had said after a moment. "Instead of just gifting you things at random to find out what you prefer, why don't you just tell me now so I don't have to go through all the trouble?"

"Butterflies," Mistel had answered hastily. "Erm—Well, they're one of my favorites, but I'm afraid you're going to have to find out the rest on your own." He beamed at her with his hands tightly clasped behind his back.

"Oh, a mystery," she had said teasingly. "You just keep getting more and more intriguing by the second."

He had stared at her in silent stupor for a moment, then asked, "And may I inquire one of your favorites?"

"I rather fancy yellow roses, but I'm afraid you're going to have to find out the rest on your own," she had teased, flashing her brilliant smile at him.

"I'll make sure to remember that for further use," he had said, his face regaining its usual mischievous smirk.

"So what do you like to do in your free time?" Beatrice had wondered.

"In my free time? Well, let me see..." He had paused for a moment. "I like puzzles, and games that challenge my spatial acumen, like darts, and pool.

"Why do you ask? Are you challenging me to something? Because I'm game to play anything with you, anytime!" he had chuckled.

"Perhaps I am, but I'm afraid I can't right now, and it seems neither can you. You are closed on Saturdays, correct? If you'd like, I could come by and take you up on that challenge," she had said with a coy smile.

"Sounds wonderful, I'll be looking forward to it," he had said earnestly, but his grin lit up his eyes.

Beatrice had left after that, and made good on visiting him that Saturday to play chess with him. Ever since then she would always go to his house on Saturdays to play chess with him, and had even played billiards with him and Iris once or twice. She had yet to shown him her dart skills, and was a little excited to play with him; as she was much better at darts than chess. Although she enjoyed seeing his face light up in victory, she enjoyed even more the way he would smile with her whenever she won—which wasn't often.

Almost everyday she would go visit him on the pretense that she was there to have tea with Iris, but her actual intent was just so she could see his face light up when she presented him with a butterfly. Mistel would often join them in having tea, and she quickly became good friends with the siblings. Before she even knew what was happening, she found herself infatuated with him. She enjoyed having interesting conversations with him and his gentlemanly way of teasing her which always seemed to make her blush.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long, Bee," Iris said as she stood, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"No problem! What were you writing?" Beatrice asked as Iris sat down on the sofa opposite of her.

"I had some ideas for my new novel, would you like to know what it's about?"

"Yes, please!" Beatrice said enthusiastically. Since she had moved to Oak Tree town she had read almost all of Iris's novels by now and enjoyed speaking to her about them.

"Ah, wonderful!" Iris exclaimed, flashing a big smile. "For once, I'm actually writing a romance. A sad story of unrequited love. Have you ever been in love, Bee?" She raised an eyebrow as her smile turned mischievous.

"I, uh—I'm not sure," Beatrice stammered. "I've had a couple of boyfriends, but I'm not actually sure if I ever fell in love with either of them."

"Oh, you would know!" Iris giggled. "Love is a wonderful thing, and I hope you get to experience it one day..." Iris paused for a moment. "Speaking of love, I'd like to talk to you about my brother."

"M-Mistel?" she sputtered, her mouth slightly agape. "What about him?"

Iris lowered her voice and said, "I know you're not dense, Bee. You are aware he is quite smitten with you, correct?"

"He is?" she squeaked.

"Of course he is," Iris kept her voice low. "And it appears to me that you are quite smitten with him, as well."

Beatrice felt a slight heat rise in her face as she whispered, "I-I may be, but isn't this a bit awkward to talk about, Iris? He's your little brother..."

"Oh, no, not at all!" Iris insisted, her face adorned with a big grin. "I would love nothing more than to see my two favorite people together and happy." She paused for a moment, then sighed, "Although, he is rather upset right now. He often doubts himself, and ever since he saw you and Fritz kiss his face has turned as sour as it gets at the Harvest Festival. He no longer thinks he has a chance with you."

Beatrice felt her heart clench. "I feel so awful that he had seen that..."

"If you feel so awful then why are you going on a date with Fritz on Saturday?" Iris asked in disdain, her usual beautiful face distorted in a scowl.

"Iris, please, keep your voice down!" Beatrice begged. She didn't want Mistel to hear that. "It's not a date, he's just making it up to me by cooking me a dinner."

"Ah, I see," Iris said simply, her scowl softening. "I just hope that's all you and Fritz do..." Iris hesitated for a moment. "You see, my brother has a tendency to fall hard and often gets his heart broken. I would hate for you to do that to him." Iris looked away for a moment, a disgruntled look sprawled across her face. When she looked back at her Beatrice noticed she was no longer looking at regular Iris, not even sister Iris, but mother Iris.

"Because if you do break his heart, I'm afraid you will quickly become my least favorite person," Iris stated flatly, her violet eyes glowering.

"I would never do that to him, Iris. It nearly broke my heart seeing how pained his eyes looked," Beatrice murmured, adverting her eyes from Iris's unflinching stare.

"Well, it didn't _nearly_ break my heart, it _actually_ broke my heart. So, please, be more careful from now on, and I hope I never have to have this conversation with you again. It won't be nearly as pleasant if I do.

"That's all I had to say," Iris said as she stood. "I must be getting back to my writing now, but please promise me you'll never do that to him again. You are one of my best friends, Bee, and I would hate for that to change."

"I promise, Iris, and thank you for being honest with me," Beatrice said, also standing. "Please keep this conversation between us, I don't want Mistel to know I fancy him just yet..."

"Oh, I'm sure he knows!" Iris giggled, crossing the room to sit back down at her writing table. "There was so much sexual tension earlier I swear I could have cut it with a knife! Who taught you to flirt like that?" Iris turned her head slightly to look at her, raising her eyebrows.

"No one!" Beatrice squeaked, a large grin spreading across her lips involuntarily.

"You liar!" Iris chuckled. "Your tell is very obvious!"

"Oh, shush!" Beatrice said teasingly, walking over to the stair case. "Farewell, Iris, and good luck on your novel!"

"Thank you, Bee. Goodbye!" Iris called after as she sprinted down the stairs. As soon as she rounded the corner she saw that Mistel had his hands tightly clasped over his ears, and when he saw her he uncovered them.

"So you decided after all not to listen?" Beatrice asked.

"I thought it would be best not to," he replied flatly. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear what you two were talking about."

"It was nothing, really. Just our usual chit-chat." She felt her lips twitch into a large grin again, and tried her very best to suppress it.

"Ah, I see," Mistel said with smirk. "I do believe you have a butterfly to gift me, correct?"

"Oh, of course!" She walked over to his counter and pulled out a green box out of her rucksack, and placed it on the counter in front of him. He hastily opened the box and gracefully took out the butterfly, which rested upon his finger. His face lit up at the sight up of, and she felt her lips spread into a large smirk at seeing how happy he looked. He quickly opened the glass terrarium and placed the butterfly in it. When he looked back at her she noticed a light that reached his eyes, and she felt her heart flutter

"Thank you for gifting me so often, Beatrice. I will have to make sure to repay you back some day soon," he said with a devilish grin.

"Oh, uh, yes—that would be wonderful," she murmured.

"So? Shall I be expecting you this Saturday for our usual game night?" Mistel inquired.

"I, uh, am kind of busy this Saturday, perhaps on Sunday I'll stop by for a little while."

She watched as he face dropped, and he sighed, "Oh, I see. I'll be looking forward to seeing you again soon. I know you are a very busy person, but I do enjoy your company, and hope you will at least drop by on Sunday to play a quick game of chess with me."

"I'll try my very hardest," she said with a feigned smile. "Well, until then. Farewell, Mistel."

"Farewell, Beatrice," he called after her in a low tone, disappoint evident in his voice.

As Beatrice shut the door behind her she let out a loud sigh. She felt so incredibly guilty. He had already tried to pay her back with her favorite flowers—and she had ruined it. As she walked back to her farm she felt a sickening feeling residing in her core. What if Fritz's intentions were more than just to make her a dinner? What if he had started having romantic feelings for her? She wished more than anything that he wouldn't try to kiss her again. She knew if he did that Mistel may move on, thinking that she would prefer Fritz rather than him, and subsequently abolishing any chance of them ever being together. She wouldn't let it happen, she cared too much for him to see the pain in his beautiful violet eyes again.

She fell asleep that night with a longing ache in her heart, knowing deep in her core that there was only one man that could subside it.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Ever wondered what the purple flower event would be like in Mistel's POV? Well, wonder no more haha. Anyway, thank you for the reviews and favorites and follows! You have no idea how happy it makes me—a person with no self confidence. I'm not extremely happy with this chapter, but am excited for the next :)_

 _Anyways, as always, let me know what you think._

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Mistel tensely paced back and forth in the apartment, his hands clenched into tight fists as they trembled in rage. He hardly slept a wink the night before. As soon as _she_ left yesterday Iris had told him some of their conversation—to his dismay. His head had been clouded with unadulterated jealousy as soon as Iris had told him _she_ was going on a date with _him_ , and he hardly heard a word Iris had said after that. He refused to think her name again, he didn't want to soil its beauty with the bitterness that it would surely sound like in his mind.

Although Iris insisted that it wasn't a date—that it was just a dinner that _he_ was going to cook for _her_ to make up for kissing her—he didn't care. He couldn't help but to think the worse case scenario, that the dinner was going to be a romantic one; with candles, flowers, and all the fixings that came with romanticism. That _he_ was going to be sweet and compliment her all night, that the food would be wonderful, and then at the end of the night he would kiss her like she deserved to be kissed—subsequently making her fall in love with _him._ Mistel had never before detested someone as much as he did _him_. _He_ could rot in the depths of hell for all he cared.

 _She's going to fall in love with a fool and it's all my fault_ , he thought to himself miserably, clenching his hands even tighter. He knew he should have confessed his feelings for her earlier, but he was just too nervous. Rejection was a feeling he was used to by now, but every time it happened it didn't hurt any less than he thought it would. If he had confessed to her and she turned him down he knew that the heartbreak would be his worst yet. After not being able to sleep he had thoroughly evaluated his feelings for her, and he came to the conclusion that he was in love—a love he had never felt before, and it hurt so, _so_ horribly.

He felt as if he was going to vomit at any moment and tried his best not to dry heave. The thought of _her_ sitting with _him_ by a candle lit dinner was the most atrocious thing he could ever imagine. There were a few things worse, but he wouldn't dare think of them for fear that if did he would lose control over his bodily functions and vomit at the idea. He didn't think _he_ deserved her, let alone that simpleminded boy. He knew that if _he_ ever kissed _her_ again without her permission that he would cut his throat with one swift slice, then unceremoniously bury the body and spit upon his corpse before doing so. The fool deserved nothing less.

Iris had spent the night at Klaus's so he didn't even have her to spill his woes upon, even though it was her fault to begin with that he even knew this information. If she hadn't told him at least he would be in ignorant bliss right now with hope that his love might grace him with her presence today. Instead he would be walking around with a gloomy cloud above his head all day, just begging to pour down on him and ruin whatever measly amount of happiness he could muster.

He just didn't understand her; she flabbergasted him beyond his comprehension. Why had she been flirting with him like that, why had she wanted to kiss him so badly if she already had plans to go on a date with _him_? He knew she wasn't lying, and it had little to do with the way her beautiful ruby eyes gazed into his—her tell was so obvious. Whenever she did lie she would always grin so large that adorable dimples would form in her rosy cheeks, and he would always find himself fighting off the urge to embrace her and kiss her madly at the view; the look was too much for his little heart to handle.

He abruptly stopped pacing and released his fists as he suddenly realized why she had looked so ashamed the other day. She had known that if he found out about her dinner with _him_ that it would no doubt cause him great pain, which would surely cause her grief even if she didn't feel the same for him as he did for her—they were good friends, maybe even best, and with her being as magnificent of a person as she was he knew she would never want to hurt him that badly.

Mistel knew now that he had underestimated her intelligence. She knew he had feelings for her, how else would she have known it would cause him pain if he found out about the dinner? She had heard the bitterness in his voice yesterday, she had seen the hurt in his eyes when he told her about the scene in which he had witnessed. He hadn't tried very hard to hide it. He was beginning to think this love for her was starting to cloud his own intelligence. He wasn't too thrilled by that, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.

He felt his lips twitch into a large grin as it dawned upon him—she wasn't lying. She had wanted to kiss him, she nearly _begged_ for one. It seemed to him at the time that she wouldn't leave without one, or at least wouldn't leave happy—like she hadn't. Why else would she want a kiss if she didn't at the very least have a crush on him? He knew her well enough now to know that she wasn't the type of person who just went around kissing people without having feelings for them. She wasn't a huntress, someone who easily succumbed to lust; she was sweet and clever and the most exquisite creature he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, let alone befriending.

His anger was completely abolished by now, and replaced with pure bliss. He glanced at the grandfather clock and saw that it was nearly time to open shop. With much more pep in his step he sprinted down the stairs, skipping every other step. His happiness betrayed him as he missed the second to last step, tripping and falling directly on his ankle. He sharply inhaled as he sat up straight, moving his ankle in different directions to test how it felt. It didn't hurt _too_ badly, but he wasn't sure if it was sprained or just merely twisted, so he decided it would be best to go to the clinic to let Marian examine it.

He carefully stood, balancing on one leg with his arm against the wall to support him. He slowly lowered his other leg, cautiously putting the smallest amount of weight on his foot. He let out a loud sigh of relief. It wasn't broken, he was sure of that. He cursed Klaus for charming his sister into spending the night with him, otherwise she would be here right now to help him to the clinic. Although even if she was here he knew she would make a big fuss over it, and he would probably end up insisting that he didn't need her to escort him there.

Mistel slowly made his way to clinic, careful to support most of his weight on his good foot. He knew that this was going to take awhile, and wasn't too happy that the shop was going to have to be closed for the day. He felt a pang in his heart, realizing he probably wouldn't see his love today. His mood switched back into a gloomy one and he sighed as reached the guild.

Without even looking up from her counter Veronica gave him a halfhearted greeting, too absorbed in whatever paperwork she was looking at to even notice his current state. As soon as he walked into the clinic Angela noticed the slight limp in his walk and nudged Marian on the shoulder, who was writing something down in his notebook. Marian looked up from his notebook and to him and asked, "What brings you to the clinic, honey? Have you been injured?"

"I tripped and it seems that I've hurt my ankle, would you mind examining it?"

"Of course, dear! Just give me a few moments, I need to finish up some work right now," Marian replied. He turned to Angela and said, "Angela, would you be a dear and show Mistel to one of the beds?"

"Of course, doctor. Follow me," Angela said in her usual professional tone, gesturing for him to follow her. She led him to one of the clinic's beds and took out her clipboard as he sat. Angela raised an eyebrow at him as she said, "So, it appears you can walk just fine. What hurts?"

"Evidently my ankle, obviously," he retorted bitterly, narrowing his eyes at her. She was acting as if this was causing a nuisance to her day.

"Hmm...I see," Angela said simply, scribbling something down in her clipboard. "The doctor will see you shortly. Please just rest while he finishes up with his work."

He gave a slight nod as Angela walked over to the file cabinet. He sighed loudly. This was causing a huge nuisance in _his_ day. He had dusting and paperwork of his own to do, and this seemed to him like it was going to take awhile. He hoped Marian would finish up soon, then maybe he would still have time to get _some_ work done.

He felt like he was waiting for at least four hours, but was probably closer to two, when he heard someone enter the clinic. "Hey, doc, how's it goin'?" He knew that goofy, annoying voice. His blood almost started to boil just by the sound of it.

"Not too well, darling," he heard Marian sigh. "It seems Mistel has been terribly injured, I'm afraid his leg may very well be broken!"

"W-what?!" he heard the fool stammer. "I gotta go get Miss Iris right away!"

"I'm just joking, dear!" Marian called after him, but before the words even left his mouth the fool had already ran off and out of the clinic.

Mistel chuckled at hearing _him_ call Iris _Miss_ Iris, knowing how much she hated to be called that—it made her feel old. He heard Marian giggle slightly and stand, crossing the clinic and making his way over to him. "So, what happened, honey?"

"I missed a step walking down the staircase," he sighed. "I think I'm all right, but I thought it would be best for you to make sure. I don't want to make it any worse if it is injured."

"That was very good thinking, if you ever feel like you're ill or injured in any way make sure you come straight here," Marian said with a small smirk. Mistel nodded his head as Marian leaned down and grabbed a hold of his ankle, twisting it in all directions. "Does that hurt?"

"Only slightly," he replied.

"All right, now stand up and walk around a little," Marian insisted. He complied, and put a little more weight on his foot than earlier. He walked around the room a couple of times and to his relief he found that his ankle hardly hurt at all.

"You seem to be walking just fine!" Marian exclaimed. "That's wonderful. I'm sure you'd like to get back to your shop now, and since everything appears to be fine to me I don't see why you can't leave now."

"Thank you, doctor," he sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear it. It would be very bothersome if I was bedridden for weeks over a sprained ankle."

"Oh, I'm sure it wouldn't be _too_ bothersome," Marian said teasingly as they walked to the front of the clinic. "I have no doubt that Bee would be at your bedside, nursing you back to health."

He felt a slight heat rise in his face, but before he could protest Iris and the fool hastily ran into the clinic, both of them looking startled.

He turned to them and asked with a solemn expression sprawled across his face, "Goodness, what is all this fuss?" He refused to look at _him_ , instead solely giving his full attention to Iris.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Iris exclaimed, no longer looking startled but relieved. "You look well for someone who was terribly injured. Fritz came running to get me." She turned to the redhead and put a hand to her hip, giving him a displeased look.

"Huh? Wait, you can walk? Are you sure you should be doing that?" Fritz asked in perplexity, a quizzical look upon his face.

"Of course I can walk. I just tripped, is all!" he sighed loudly, still refusing to look at _him._

Fritz hung his head low, murmuring, "Huh? But..."

"Goodness, did you really believe that?" Marian giggled softly. "No one is seriously going to break a leg missing a step or two down the staircase, darling."

"Really?!" Fritz confusingly asked with a baffled look on his face. _I wasn't aware he could become even more of a fool_ , Mistel bitterly thought.

"Sheesh, must you make a fuss over everything?" Mistel harshly asked him, still not looking directly at him. He turned to Marian and said crossly, "Though doctor, I don't think it's appropriate for someone in your position to exaggerate the condition of a patient."

Marian turned to him and emoted, "Well, I hardly thought he would actually believe me!

"And I did follow it up right away by saying I was kidding, but he had already dashed off before the words even left my mouth. Still, you're right. I'm very sorry, honey."

Just then Beatrice frantically dashed through the door with a frightened look upon her face, causing them all to turn to her in unison. He felt his mood lighten slightly by her presence, then it quickly turned back into one of irritation realizing the fool was still in the room.

He felt his face twist into a somber expression, and averted his eyes slightly as he solemnly asked, "And you were dragged into this, too?"

She gave him a quizzical look and cocked her head slightly to the side. He felt his lips twitch into a small smirk at the view. She was so worried about him that she had taken time out of her busy day just to make sure he was okay.

"I assure you, I'm quite all right," he said simply. "I tripped and twisted my ankle, is all. But it seems these two decided to make it sound worse. They found that amusing, I suppose!" He chuckled dryly, then shot Fritz a quick glare—looking at him for the first time since he entered the clinic.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at Fritz, then at Marian for a second. When she looked back at him she grinned so large that dimples formed in her cheeks, and her eyes shone with relief. He felt his heart flutter at the look, and tried his best to keep his expression neutral.

"I'm sorry to have made you worry. I'm sure you must've been rather put out."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Beatrice stammered, giving him a perplexing look.

"Hmm? I mean that precisely as I said it. Isn't worrying about someone else an unwanted interruption to your day?" he returned. "I'm pretty sure it would be for me, at least." _Unless you, my dear, were injured_ , he thought involuntarily to himself, trying his best to repress a smile.

Her ruby eyes widened and she frantically shook her head as she fiercely insisted, "Oh, no, not at all! I wouldn't be able to get any work done if I hadn't of came. I thought you were terribly injured! I would have been a nervous wreck all day and night."

"Bee has the right idea, Mistel," Iris said, making him start. He had nearly forgotten that him and Beatrice weren't the only two people in the room. "I could never just stand there, knowing you were hurt, worrying about how bad it might be...

"But now that we know you're all right, there isn't a single thing I feel 'put out' about!" Iris giggled softly, flashing a big smile.

He considered the thought for a few moments, then looked away and sighed, "I see. So that's how it is, then?"

"Of course!" Iris said, beaming. "Now, then, I'll be going back home, if there's nothing else... I left in such a hurry I didn't even have a chance to lock the door!" _Oh, so you came home_ after _I tripped?_ He would have said it to her out loud if he knew she wouldn't box his ears for embarrassing her in front of all of them.

The redheaded fool turned to Beatrice and hung his head low, murmuring, "I'm really sorry." He turned to Mistel and grinned a goofy smile, saying, "Anyway, I've got to head back as well. There's still work to be done! Take care of yourself." Iris and Fritz began to walk out of the clinic, and as soon as Fritz turned around Mistel shot him a quick glare.

"I ought to get back to work myself," Marian said. "Bee, if you don't mind, could you walk Mistel home? Thanks, honey!"

Beatrice nodded her head enthusiastically, flashing him her brilliant smile—subsequently making his heart flutter. He felt a little irritated at Marian. He didn't need an escort. "I can walk perfectly fine," he said firmly. "There's no need for anyone to walk me all the way home."

"Ah-aaah!" Marian sang. "I said just in case. That's doctor's orders, so you have to obey. Doctors even override captains, you know!" Marian gave a little wink to Beatrice, causing her cheeks to turn a pink hue. Mistel shook his head slightly. Was Marian trying to set them up or something?

"Take care, both of you. Ta-tah!" Marian said as he walked away, giving Mistel a small wink, too. He was sure of it—Marian _was_ trying to get them together. He knew Marian loved nothing more than to push two people together, and he always seemed to be in the know of who liked who.

They both watched as Marian walked into the back of the clinic, therefore leaving them alone. They turned to each other in unison, and when her ruby eyes met his he felt a spark. He felt his heart speed up at the sensation, and averted his eyes for fear his heart might give up on him. He felt his face twist into a sober expression as he murmured, "Well, guess that's that, then. I'm sorry, but would you please accompany me?"

"Of course!" Beatrice said in a sing-song voice, grinning so large that her dimples showed, and then turned to walk out of the clinic. He couldn't help but to chuckle loudly at seeing how pleased she was to escort him home.

At the sound of his laugh she turned around to face him again, her face adorned with a befuddled look. He smirked and put a hand on his hip, laughing loudly at the look, "...Oh, sorry! I was just thinking of the expression on your face, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"It was only a little sprain, but you dashed in looking so terrified, one might think the world was ending!"

She scowled at him for a moment, scolding, "It's not funny, Mistel. I was so awfully worried."

"I know, I know, it's not a laughing matter. You were genuinely worried about me," he chuckled again, trying his best to compose himself. She was even adorable when her face was distorted in a scowl. He took a moment to think. He still couldn't comprehend why this obvious inconvenience in her day didn't annoy her in the slightest. He felt his lips twitch into a mischievous smirk as he simply said, "To be honest, I still can't understand why you aren't bothered having to worry about someone else like that. It would rile me up for sure!"

His grinned widened as he said with evident joy in his tone, "But I guess...it isn't too bad to have someone desperately wishing for my safety. Thank you, Beatrice." It made him feel elated that for once in his life someone other than Iris worried and cared for him that much.

She grinned from ear to ear, gushing, "Of course I wish for your safety, you're my best friend!"

 _'Best friend',_ he thought miserably to himself, but kept his expression neutral. He wished more than anything that she would have said instead, " _Of course I wish for your safety, you're the love of my life!"_

"Shall we be going, then?" he asked flatly.

She nodded her head in response, her huge grin remaining on her face—oblivious of his sudden change of mood. While she escorted him home she swung her arms back and forth merrily, whereas he kept his arms firmly behind his back. He kept his eyes forward but could feel hers stealing glances at him every once in awhile. He couldn't help but to feel a little angry with her. If she thought them best friends then why didn't she tell him herself that she was busy on Saturday because of her dinner with _him_ , even if it was purely platonic. He would much prefer if she was more direct with him; this game of theirs was beginning to emotionally drain him.

As they reached the western part of town he felt her hand brush up against his. A few steps later he felt it again, and she gently attempted to grab a hold of his—but before she could he harshly recoiled his hand and crossed his arms under his chest. He kept his eyes forward as he said in disdain, "I'm pretty sure the social norm is to only hold hands with children and your lover. Do you think of me as either of those things?"

"Wh-what?" she sputtered. "Where is this coming from, all of a sudden?"

Now standing out front of his home, he turned to her and scornfully said, "Iris told me why you won't be around on Saturday. If we're such good friends, then why didn't you just tell me yourself?" _Instead of worrying me to the point where I couldn't sleep._

"I... I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression," Beatrice replied in a low tone. "He's just apologizing to me for what he did, is all."

"I just wish you would have told me yourself," he muttered. "I thought you knew me well enough by now to know that I would believe you if you told me it was for that reason, and that reason only." He hesitated for a moment. "And not that it's a date—which wouldn't matter anyway, since _we_ aren't dating or anything."

Beatrice stared at him in silent stupor for a few moments, tightly grabbing her brunette locks while her ruby eyes were ablaze in a passion, appearing as if she might start crying at any moment. He felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. This was by far the worst look he had ever seen on her face. "I'm so sorry," she murmured lamentably after a couple of minutes. "Friends shouldn't have secrets, I promise I'll tell you everything from now on."

He gave a slight nod, and before he could even react she grabbed both of his hands, entwining her fingers with his. He felt a spark as their skin made contact, and his eyes widened in shock for a second. He relished in the way her hands felt in his, even though they were a bit cold. If he had known it felt so good to have her skin against his he would have held her hands long ago. "Am I still welcomed over on Sunday? I thought perhaps we could play darts," she asked softly, giving him a small smile and squeezing his hands.

"Erm—Of course," he stammered, taken slightly aback. "You're always welcome here, Beatrice." He took a step closer, grasping her hands more tightly and gazing down at her slightly with an intensity in his stare. With a mischievous smirk he timidly asked, "May I kiss your cheek? As a repayment for escorting me home, o-of course!"

He could feel her warm breath against his face and felt his heart speed up. He watched as her cheeks turned a dark hue of pink and he heard her swallow hard as she gave a small nod. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he slowly leaned down, placing the most tender of kisses on the side of her heated face. He kept his lips upon her cheek for a few moments, then reluctantly pulled back.

When he looked back into her eyes he saw that she was staring at him with such an intensity that it put the sun to shame, and felt his heart quicken even further—he wasn't aware it could beat so fast. She kept her fingers firmly laced with his as she whispered, "I'll be looking forward to Sunday. Perhaps I'll stop by for a little while tomorrow and Friday, too. Maybe we can have tea?"

"Sounds fantastic," he said, beaming. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

She slowly slid her hands out from under his grasps, then put them to her brunette locks and frantically ran them through her silken strands. "Until then," she whispered. "Farewell, Mistel."

"Goodbye, Beatrice," he softly called after her as she walked away. She turned her head slightly and gave a small wave, a coy smile sprawled across her still heated face. He let out a loud sigh once he saw her reach the eastern stairs, his head now clear and vastly less happy now that she wasn't in his presence. He started to pace back and forth out front of his door, mulling over everything that had just taken place.

 _Perhaps this isn't_ _a game, after all_. Even if the game was still in process, they were now at a standstill. Although he felt immensely relieved to hear from her own mouth that the dinner was just a dinner, and nothing more, he still wasn't sure where this left them. He knew she was rather shy when it came to those sort of things, but would she have reacted differently if it were Raeger who had done what he had, or even _him_? Would she have wanted to hold either of their hands, would she have given them a bashful smile with the most adorable look upon her face afterward? Would either of them have that effect on her?

He hadn't the slightest clue, and that was what was bothering him now. He still couldn't help but to feel uneasy about her dinner. He thought that sharing a meal with someone was an intimate thing—one that you would do with your family or lover. He didn't think it was a _friendly_ thing to do. Friends drank tea and had sweets together, not meals. He wished more than anything it was him having dinner with her instead. He had no doubt he was a better cook than that fool.

He stopped pacing. He knew now what he was going to— _determined—_ to do. He was going to confess to her on Sunday, no matter how nervous he was or if she denied him. He couldn't go on like this anymore, not knowing whether or not she felt the same for him as he did for her. He didn't want anymore sleepless nights, worrying that if he didn't tell her soon that she would surely start dating someone else; even if she did like him, he knew she would only wait so long, and felt like his time would no doubt run out sooner than later.

If the game was still going on he was going to win—or break his heart trying.


	4. Chapter 4

_I have to be honest with you, I'm sorry. I mine as well say it now, because I'm not sure what came over me to make me think, and especially write, this chapter. Once it was in my brain I had to write it, though, and it was really planned from the beginning. Although I was excited to write it, I was even a little pained when it came to the not-so-great part. Okay, it's awful, but what's a story without some drama? A boring story, that's what it is. Still, once again I'm sorry, but not really—because I love drama but the sadness I will apologize for. Honestly, I feel worse for Beatrice than I do Mistel, but anyway..._

 _Thank you for the reviews, they literally motivate me to write :) I was sick all week, but usually when I don't answer you back that means my anxiety is shooting through the roof, which it kinda is right now, but anyway please keep reviewing ^.^ It makes me oh-so-very happy._

 _TW: Violence_ _... I guess that's a trigger? I think it would be best I warned you, if it were just a little violent I wouldn't feel the need to warn you but, alas, it will be pretty damn violent, so here we are. Fritz won't be in the story as much after this chapter... He won't be dead—probably—but he certainly won't be in the story as much so I'm sure a lot of you will be happy to read that—I know I am. Well, if you hate Fritz as much as I do, then this chapter will surely put a smile to your face. Make me water your goddamn crops and this is what you get, violence._

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

"Brother, if you listen to that song one more time I'm going to—" Iris yelled harshly through the music, her eyes unflinching as she looked up from her workstation. Mistel stopped pacing and rotated the dial slightly on the record player to turn it down, his own eyes calm—uncaring, even; despite the turmoil that was happening inside his head. "You're going to what, Iris?" he retorted bitterly.

"I'm going to snap the record right in half, is what!" she scoffed, then rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. He could understand why the song was beginning to irritate her, he had to of listened to it at least fifteen times already.

The song was almost over, but it abruptly ended before it could even finish as he picked up the stylus and hung it above the record in the exact spot he knew it would begin. He looked her dead in the eyes while he fiercely said, "I dare you to try."

"Fine, brother, listen to it til your ears bleed—I don't care!" she sighed loudly and slapped her hands down on the table. He gave a slight nod and released his hand, the stylus hitting the record with a screech, then the song began again. He watched as her face turned purple, as if she was holding in her breath, then she huffed, "You've gone mad, and it's beginning to drive _me_ mad."

"If my madness is obscuring your creativity then by all means—leave," he said simply with a gesture of his hand to the stairs. "Or have you forgotten that I live here, too?"

"I just wish you wouldn't be so _insane_ about these things, it's insufferable," she sighed again, her eyes darting to the clock for a moment. "It's nearly nine, I think it's about time for your pacing and inner musings to end."

"Musings? Is that what you call it?" he chuckled dryly. "So? It's almost nine? What does that mean to me? That I should be worrying about 'after hour' happenings, now? Thank you, sister, that's exactly what I'd like to _muse_ about," his voice took on a mocking tone as he threw his hands up in the air for a second. He wished she would just shut up—the sound of her was beginning to become _insufferable_.

"No, that wasn't what I meant, please don't muse upon that!" Iris insisted, her eyes turning wild while she looked him up and down, as if to look into his mind and make sure he wasn't thinking of such things. "I only meant that she's probably in bed right now. Farmers go to bed awfully early, you know? Even on Saturdays they don't have the pleasure of staying up until they desire—they have no choice on the matter; they have to work very early on _all_ days."

He sighed and looked away for a moment. Did she really think that assuring him that farmers go to bed early was going to ease his mind? If so she knew him a lot worse than she thought she did. "Oh, they do? Ah, I'm cured! Thank you!" he mocked again. "She stays here until at least ten on most Saturdays."

"Well, it's not _most_ Saturdays, now is it?" she said, her voice sounding annoyed. She was correct, it wasn't _most_ Saturdays. If it were _she_ would be here, and they would probably be ending one game or another, almost ready to say their goodbyes; and everything would be fine and move along as it always did in the small town—instead he was alone, or _nearly_ alone if he were to consider Iris working next to him company, while his inner _musings_ taunted him. "Beatrice—"

"Beatrice?" he asked confusingly, cutting her off. "Since when do you call her _Beatrice_?"

"You talk about her so much I've almost forgotten I call her Bee," she returned. "If you're so worried about her then why don't you go for a stroll? Perhaps you'll end up at her farm and can see for yourself that she's asleep."

"I know she's not asleep. She said she can never get used to these hours, no matter how hard she tries. Most likely she's listening to a song or reading a book, just trying to get her head to settle down."

"See! You know her so well, why don't you just go? And if she asks why you're there so late, just tell her the truth—that you've worried yourself sick over her and wanted to make sure she was okay," she said, her voice now taking on a desperate tone.

"I said _most likely_ ," he said firmly. "I didn't consider the special occasion. You're deferring me from the subject of discourse, anyway."

"I think a stroll would do you some good, it may clear up your discomforted head."

" _Fine_ ," he resigned, walking over to the staircase. "If you wanted to get rid of me that badly you could have just said so." He started to go down the stairs carefully, not eagerly—he wasn't about to make the same mistake again by running down them, and what would he be eager for? To find out that he was correct, that his brooding was good for something? He wasn't even sure if his legs would carry him to her farm, and if they did he wasn't sure if he would be able to make it there without throwing up—or rather dry heaving, as he hardly ate anything today and nothing would probably come up.

He heard Iris cross the room and sigh in relief, then a screech of the record as it stopped. Is that really all she wanted, to stop the song? He slammed the door loudly behind him. He may have been being a little ridiculous but she was being _insane_. She should have known that the night would go like this. How could it go any differently when he knew that his love was on a date with another? To act calmly would be the doings of a madman, if anything she should have been happy that he wasn't attempting to pull out his hair, or dash his head against the wall until it bled. That was what he really felt like doing, but for her sake decided that pacing and _musings_ would have to do.

The night held a crisp in the air, a coldness that shook him to his bones. He looked up to see an array of gray scattered clouds, just begging to pour down on him and ruin his mood even further—and that's precisely what they did as he began to mount the eastern staircase, he felt a drop of rain hit his cheek and roll down the side of his face. _Wonderful_ , he thought bitterly, _that's exactly what I need, to catch pneumonia._ If that's what Iris wished that's what he would do—walk around in the rain until he caught some disease, preferably a deadly one so he wouldn't have to think such awful things anymore.

Apparently his thoughts did not suffice. He stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the Piedmont area. He wasn't sure if the scene in which he was viewing was reality or just simply in his head, and he had finally went insane. After a moment he couldn't care less if it were just in his head or not, it was too much for him to handle. His heart squeezed with emotions he didn't want to feel, they hurt too much to feel. He felt the blood drain from his face as he clenched his hands at his sides, his whole body heating up in anger—no, pure hatred.

His Beatrice, or who he _thought_ was his Beatrice, was propped up against the only tree on the left side, her hands pulling on the boy's scarf around his neck in an attempt to draw him closer in their wild embrace— _he_ was a boy, not a man, as a man wouldn't even _try_ to kiss a woman in such a place. A pity, really. He used to like that tree.

Once he would have fled from the scene, once he would have cried his eyes out and banged his head against the wall until he forgot the view. Not anymore. He would stand there, defiant, until one of them noticed he was there; no matter if he went madder by the second. His eyes flashed between red and green in rapid sucession. Jealousy was one thing in itself, as was anger; but them mixed together made him feel more enraged than he had ever felt before, and doubt he would ever feel again.

Luckily, he didn't have to watch for very long, as it began to rain harder and Beatrice removed her lips from _his_ to look up at the sky and giggle. _Giggle? Is she seriously giggling?_ As they rolled back to the ground they met his, and she let out a large gasp as she removed her hands and defensively put them up in the air, the color draining from her face. "M-Mistel?" she stammered, or rather slurred, for what else but a great amount of alcohol could come over her to make her do such a thing?

"Beatrice," he tried to reply simply, but alas his voice quivered in anger as he took several strides toward them—not _too_ close, though, for fear that once he reached them he would grab the redheaded fool and punch him square in the face. He felt as if someone had punched him right in the gut, he could hardly breathe at all.

As he approached them the fool took his head out of the crook of her neck, and at the sight of seeing Beatrice looking so startled _he_ followed her gaze to see him standing there. The fool looked rather startled himself, and released her so she dropped to the ground, his head hung low as his face twisted into a bashful expression. Mistel couldn't believe _he_ had the audacity to even attempt to look bashful at being caught, for what other reason would _he_ have embraced her in such a place if _he_ didn't _want_ to get caught.

"What's going on here?" Mistel asked, his eyes staying locked on her wide, ruby ones.

"Nothin', we were—" the fool attempted to answer, but before he could Mistel turned to him, growling, " _Did I ask you_?"

"No, but—"

Enough was enough. If the fool was insisting on talking to him then he would, but it wouldn't be pleasant. Mistel grabbed him by his scarf, twisting his hand around it and pulling the fool to him until his nose reached his. With wild eyes he searched _his_ to see them wide in fear—terrified, even. He was glad, _he_ should be afraid. " _Fine_ ," Mistel hissed between closed teeth. "You tell me, then. What's going on here?"

"We just had a little to drink, and I was walkin' her home, and..." the fool's voice trailed off as he felt his face twist into a grimace. He cackled like a madman, he tried his best not to but that's what he felt like at the moment—a madman.

"Ah, that's all. You just had a little to drink and thought to yourself _, 'You know what would be a really great idea? To take advantage of an inebriated woman, that should work out just fine'_ ," Mistel boomed, his grasp on the fool becoming tighter.

"No, no! That wasn't what I meant—"

"Who cares what you meant! It's what you _did_ that matters. Look at her!" He turned his hand slightly to allow the fool to see her. He looked at her, too, and really wished he hadn't. She looked absolutely frightened, as if she might faint, but her eyes were glazed over in inebriation; it disgusted him, frankly, to see her like that, and it disgusted him even more to know that the fool had a part in making her that way.

"You're scarin' us, bud!"

"I'm scaring you?" Mistel laughed loudly. " _Good_ , you fool! You should be afraid! As for Beatrice, I'm terribly sorry to have frightened her like so, but she can leave if she wants. _You_ , though, I'm not done with—and I'm _not_ your friend, please try to get that through your pea sized brain."

"Look, we were just kissin', is all..."

He had heard _enough._ He wound his hand back as he abruptly released the fool, taking _him_ aback, then punched _him_ as hard as he could in the nose. The fool howled in pain as he landed hard upon his back, and Mistel took the opportunity to jump on top of him and growl between punches, " _You—Don't—Kiss—A Drunken—Woman—Do you understand?"_

"Mistel, _please_!" he heard Beatrice shriek and his arm faltered above the redheaded fool. "You're going to _kill_ him!"

 _Kill him_? That sounded like the best idea he had ever heard. "No one would be surprised to find a drunken fool in the river..." Mistel hissed so close to the fool he could smell the wine on his breath. He turned to Beatrice for a moment and asked, "How does that sound? I'll drown him in the river, and leave him there for dead. It will be our little secret, all right?"

"Mistel, _no_!" Beatrice gasped loudly. "You can't _do_ that! He didn't _do_ anything to deserve that!"

" _He_ deserves nothing less!" Mistel thundered, spitting upon his face. _He_ put an arm to his gory looking face, wiping away spit, blood, rain and all. Mistel was a little confused as to why the fool wasn't fighting back, but decided to ignore it; he had never been in a fight before, but was pretty sure he would be fighting tooth and nail if someone spit on his face.

"I swear, I didn't mean to—" the fool squeaked and Mistel punched him once more on the side of his head, growling, "Oh, you shut up! I thought we were done with you speaking, and if it's all the same to you I'd prefer to never have to hear your shrill, uneven voice again!"

"Don't hurt him anymore! I swear it was consensual!" Beatrice pleaded desperately.

"Nothing, my dear, is consensual when you're under the influence, please know that." Mistel grabbed him by the scarf and dashed his head against the hard ground, the fool's eyes drifting into the back of his head for a second. He looked back to Beatrice to see her hands covering her mouth, the look on her face making it abundantly clear that she really feared he might kill _him_. He sighed loudly, "Is that really what you wish, though? For me to stop hurting him?"

"Y-yes!" she laughed nervously. " _Please_ , it's all I'll ever ask of you! Just stop this foolishness!"

The more she pleaded for _his_ life the more he felt like hurting _him_. He released _him_ and sighed, "If that's what you wish, my love, then that's what you'll get." The fool was really lucky she had stayed, otherwise he probably would have beaten _him_ until he could no longer be recognized. Then again, he could hardly be recognized now with the blood streaming down his face.

Mistel climbed off of _him_ and Beatrice sighed in relief, "Oh, thank goodness! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Thank me once more and you will have nothing to be thankful for," Mistel harshly said through the rain, still looking at _him_ and what he had done to him. The fool hastily stood, his eyes darting from the bridge and to town, then back again; as if he was debating with himself whether to go to the clinic or not. "The clinic's not open now, you fool! No—don't talk—I can see you attempting to open that sorry excuse for a mouth, just leave."

"I'm so sorry, Bee, I didn't know you had a boyfriend," the fool spoke anyway. As he dashed from them Mistel called after him, "Oh, no, I'm not her boyfriend. If I were you would have been found dead in the river! Farewell, and please don't let me see your face again!"

Mistel laughed madly as _his_ silhouette faded into the night, then turned to Beatrice. She still looked awfully frightened, and he grew more worried as the seconds ticked by and she stayed that way. What was she frightened of? Surely it couldn't be of him. He gathered her in his arms and embraced her so tightly the wind was knocked from her, and he fiercely asked, "Did he hurt you? Was a single hair on your head harmed? I swear I'll get him and finish the job if he did!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" she insisted as he released her, her eyes still wide with fear. "Did you kill him?"

"Did I... Did I kill him?" he chuckled dryly. "You're joking, right? You did see him run off, correct? Or have you gone even madder than me?"

"Will he be okay?" she asked softly, looking to where _he_ had run off. "There was lots of blood... Are you sure you didn't kill him? I don't want you to go to jail..."

"I swear I didn't kill him, he'll be _fine_ ," he assured her, but she still had a dazed look upon her face. "We were talking about you, though. Will you be fine? Is your head all right?"

"My head," she took a deep breath, then exhaled, "Is _fine_. What about yours, though? Are you as mad as a hatter, now? Do you intend to kill everyone I've ever kissed?"

"You must be _joking_ ," he yelled, startling her again. "You've gone insane, that must be it—to think I wouldn't go mad at seeing anyone kiss you, let alone _him_ when he has you like...like this!"

"So, you're in love with me?" she mused, mostly to herself. His eyes widened in shock for a moment. She was too drunk to hear him call her ' _my love_ ', too drunk to remember it. "What a quaint notion, someone like _you_ in love with _me_."

"Let's go, before either of us catch something in this rain," he said simply, putting his hand to the small of her back and guiding her toward town.

"Where are we going? I don't live over here!"

"I'm taking you back to my house," he chuckled at seeing her looking so confused.

" _What are you going to do to me?!_ " she asked wildly.

"Wh-what?" he sputtered. "Nothing! I'm not going to do anything to you! Iris and I will just take care of you, how can you be alone when you're like this? I thought we were best friends, Beatrice, yet you still can't trust me?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said in a low tone, hanging her head. "It's a force of habit, as you saw apparently it's needed." She was right. If someone as simpleminded as _him_ could take advantage of her then what would someone like himself do? The thought almost made him vomit, but before he could apologize she started to weep. He wouldn't of noticed through the rain if it wasn't for the loud sobs racking through her body. "I'm _so_ sorry! If I really thought that you thought I'd prefer to kiss _him_ to you, I'd slice my own throat!"

She was drunk and saying things she didn't mean—that had to be it, her words held no truth in them. "No tears, I can't stand to see you cry," he pleaded, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. "You're too beautiful for your face to be distorted in such a way, and for what—me? My feelings? What do they matter? More importantly, are you all right?"

" _Me_? What do _I_ matter?" she sneered, harshly recoiling her hand. "I don't _deserve_ for you to be so nice to me. I don't _deserve_ cute hand kisses or anything of the like! I deserve to be drowned in the river with Fritz!"

He winced. She said _his_ name, and it didn't sound nearly as bitter as it should have. "What in the world would make you say that? Why—why do you think you _deserve_ that?"

"I kissed him," she whispered, gasping slightly.

"You were—you _are—_ drunk," he stated flatly.

" _No_ , Mistel, you don't understand!" she raised her voice, and he started. He had never heard her sound so _loud_ while they were just simply talking. She grasped him by his forearm and shook him slightly, her eyes wild as she continued, "I kissed him— _me!_ And you almost killed him!"

"You're—"

"So what! I probably would have done it without a drop of alcohol! He was being so very nice to be all night—no one's ever nice to me... You're nice to me, sure, but not in that kind of setting—and I was stupid, oh so very stupid. I think I was more intoxicated by the attention, honestly..."

"Is that all you want, attention?" he snickered. Was that all she really wanted? Could she not see that had so much attention to give? "It's yours. In what form would you take it?"

"In a kiss, apparently," she huffed loudly, crossing her arms below her chest. He could nearly see the gears working in her head as she shrunk into it, her eyes dilating while they gazed off into the distance. She was angry with herself. That was unacceptable. A creature such as herself shouldn't have been self-loathing, that was just ridiculous.

"Another day, when your head is more clear, I'll give you as many kisses as you desire—just not today, not right now." He wouldn't kiss her because she was intoxicated, but especially didn't want to because _he_ was ravishing her not long ago; and if _he_ tasted of grass as much as she said he did, he really didn't wish to ever experience that.

She nodded her head and looked away, but before she could he noticed her face grew redder than it was before due to the alcohol, and she started to hum loudly. That was strange in itself—the humming, but why did it always seem to him that only he made her blush so madly? Shouldn't her face have been so red when she was being embraced beneath a tree? All he did was offer her as many kisses as she wanted, he didn't say anything vulgar or crude. Was this an act she put on, just for him? She would have to be a damn good actor to put on a performance in her current state.

Out front of his door now, he turned to her and put his hands to her shoulders, calmly insisting, "You _must_ try to calm down. Iris is going to make a fuss as is, then when she sees you she's going to throw a fit. I'll have to explain what happened one thousand times, and—"

He was cut off by Iris opening the door, sighing loudly, "Oh, thank goodness, you're all right. You're drenched! When you didn't come back after it started raining I grew—Oh, and you have Beat—Bee with you, why does it look like she's been crying? And why are you so filthy? Your sleeves...they're soaked in blood. Oh, dear." Iris put a hand to her head and shut her eyes, her face growing distressed. "Inside, both of you. What have you _done_?"

"What have _I_ done?" he asked defensively as they stepped through the doorway, Iris closing the door behind them. "Why do you always assume I've done something?"

"It's not really a matter of assuming, brother, you have blood along your sleeves and a very sad looking Bee. It's more of a deduction, really."

"If that's what you're so good at, deduce, then, detective Iris," he said mockingly as Iris went into the closet and grabbed two towels, throwing one to him and placing the other around Beatrice protectively. She sniffed Beatrice and took in her dazed look, then shot him a glare and said, "She's been drinking."

"She has been," he answered simply, watching as Iris put a hand to her chin and looked at them both equally in turn.

"My deduction is simple, really, then. You found her and the fool kissing somewhere—anywhere, it doesn't matter, really. Perhaps at her house? No, that would just be ridiculous. How would you have gotten in without a key? Like I said—it doesn't matter. Then you grew angry—of course you did, jealousy is such an ugly thing, brother, you must really learn to control that—and once you were angry I'm guessing you what? Threw him from her and then beat him into a bloody pulp? Then fled the scene with her? Did you kill him? And now I'm harboring a fugitive?"

"Mistel, did you kill him?" Beatrice squeaked, and Iris put an arm around her.

"No, I didn't kill him—Beatrice, you were there! Why does everyone jump to murder automatically?"

"Well, look at her! You have her so frightened it looks as if she has witnessed a terrible crime. You haven't a single bruise on you—well none that I can see, anyway. Most importantly, you have blood on your sleeves! How do you expect me to clean all of that blood?"

"You say that as if you often have blood to wash off of something—as if I'm a murderer!"

"Brother, _please_. Stop saying that word, every time you do she gives a little jump!"

"Yes, yes, no more talk of murders," he sighed, and watched Beatrice—indeed, she did give a little jump. It was adorable, honestly, and he had to stifle a chuckle at the view. "Now will you _please_ get her changed and out of that soaked dress, she's going to catch a cold!"

"What do you expect _me_ to have for her? She's so little, look at her!" Iris cooed, cradling her head to her chest. "Are you sure you would like to have her as your lover? Can't I claim her as a sister, instead? She's not blonde, and is a little too tan, honestly—from working in the fields all the time? Has she always been so tan?"

"Ew, Iris, no, gross. It's already been done," he scolded, and Iris narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a strange look. "In my head, Iris, goodness! Why must you always make everything more uncomfortable than it needs to be?"

"Well, you made it sound so very dirty how could I think anything else? And now look at her face—it's grown all red! How cute. No wonder you want to kiss her, she's adorable! But seriously, has she always been so _tan_?"

"She grows steadily tanner by the seasons, even in Fall, I don't really understand it," he sighed loudly. Was that really what Iris was hung up on, how tan she was?

"Hmm. I see," Iris said, taking Beatrice's head in her hand and turning it in all different directions. "You need to wear sunscreen—What, Mistel? She does, don't scowl at me! The sun will age you before your time, and how can she be my younger sister if the sun does that to her?"

"I _wish_ you would stop saying that!" he boomed, and took Beatrice's hand in his. It was downright _freezing_ , and he attempted to warm it up with his other.

"I-I'm sorry, Iris, I-I don't think I can be your little sister," Beatrice stammered, looking absolutely confounded. "I'm not sure how adoption works, but I think I'm too old." She turned to him and met his gaze, and he really wished she hadn't. Now that she was looking at him with those _eyes_ he couldn't look away. "And I'm sorry, Mistel. I don't think we're lovers—are we? You need to, erm...make love, to become lovers, don't you?"

Iris laughed loudly, "Look at her! We have her all confused! She thinks we're talking about physical lovers, and she has gone all red again! And she has made you a little red, too, how cute! No, dear, not like that. When two people are in love they become lovers—Just pure, stupid simple love!"

" _Iris_ ," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Take her upstairs. _Now._ "

"Yes, brother, _I know_. We wouldn't want her to catch a cold," Iris said simply as she led Beatrice upstairs. "A cold, can you imagine? Something that Marian could treat you for in five seconds, and he has you dead—all over a cold! You better get changed, too, brother, otherwise you might catch a cold!" Iris laughed loudly as he followed them up the stairs.

"What do you think I'm _doing_? Coming to watch her get changed? What do you take me for, a pervert?"

"Well, uh, yes, a little—but it's mostly my fault. I can be a little crude at times, and I suppose it's rubbed off on him," Iris mused to Beatrice as they walked into her room, then Iris suspiciously craned her neck out of the room and gestured for him to go into his own. What did she expect him to do, just stand there frozen in fear of what she might say to Beatrice alone? He didn't plan on it, but now that it was in his head it was all he could do.

Iris gave him a weird look and closed the door behind her, but it was like all she did was close a curtain around them; he could still _hear_ them. He could hear Iris rummaging through her drawers, saying in a demanding voice to Beatrice, "Come on, take off that dress—it's clinging to you." Then after a moment it turned—angry? He was surprised, Iris hardly ever sounded enraged. "I like your matching bra and underwear, did you wear it just for _him_? I would say his name, but you see, Mistel has forbade it from being spoken in this house—so please, don't say it, unless you would like to have your mouth washed out with soap. I, for one, would certainly enjoy it, but that's a completely other matter entirely."

He was taken aback. Iris was being mean to her now that he wasn't in the room? She was being absurdly mean from what he could gather—and for no reason, too. He heard Beatrice speak but couldn't make out what she was saying, as she kept her voice low and it still sounded dazed. He could clearly hear Iris replying harshly, "Am I mad at you? Yes I'm mad at you! Have you already forgotten our little talk? I know you're not dense—so you haven't? Then do you understand why I'm—oh, you do? No, don't cry—I don't care about your tears. Save them for someone who does.

"Don't try to _apologize_. I warned you, Bee, and now look where you've landed us! I know it wasn't your fault—but _ugh!_ Don't you have a mother to tell you not to get drunk when you're with such boys? You do, and she has? Then why are you such an _idiot?_ What if Mistel had—no _did_ , kill him. We don't know for sure that he didn't! Then he would go to jail, and he would be dead in five seconds I have no doubt! Then boop—Mistel would be gone and it would be all your fault.

"Hmm? How would it be your fault? You caused the violence, didn't you? You may not have actively seek to—or perhaps you did, I have no notion of have far your dastardly deeds go. You did kiss _him_ first, didn't you? I see, I knew it. Then his death would be on your hands—how so? _Seriously?_ You're dumber than a rock. If I _must_ explain it to you—you see, from Mistel's perspective Fritz— _ugh_ , I swear I'm not washing my mouth out with soap! I'll say his name if I want to! _Fritz_ kissing you is seen as him kissing you without your permission. My brother has been raised right—you don't kiss someone under the influence of alcohol, especially a woman. Unfortunately it doesn't seem like you were raised the same.

"All these deaths would be on your hands! For disregarding completely everything I told you—that's what I'm _really_ angry about. How _dare_ you? After I took time out of my busy day to have a pleasant conversation with you—I told you our next wouldn't be. Honestly, I can't even _stand_ to look at you! Put this t-shirt on and be out of my way. He may look fine now, but once you're gone he'll break—and gods be damned if I'm picking up all the broken pieces!"

He had heard _enough._ He would have done something sooner if it weren't for his fear had turned into shock, and he was frozen there. He shook his head and hastily ran over to Iris's room, then loudly banged on the door five times, shouting, " _Iris_ , would you stop bullying her? You're being a—a..."

"A _what_? Come on, brother, say it!" Iris yelled back. "I will _gladly_ wash your mouth out with soap, I don't care how old you are!"

"You _know_ what you're being so there's no need for me to say it!" he harshly returned. "Have you gone _mad?_ Saying this to our guest?"

"I haven't, and you had better be changed! You have sixty seconds before I throw her into your room, she's not mine to worry about."

He dashed off and into his room, then changed out of his clothes and into clean pajamas before the sixty seconds was even up. Forty-five, to be exact—he had counted. Apparently Iris had been, too, because as soon as he landed on the sixty Beatrice was unceremoniously shoved into his room with a gleeful, "Your turn."

She looked absolutely horror-stricken now, and as soon as she saw him she burst into tears, then threw herself into his arms. She started to weep on his shoulder, and he could feel her chest heaving compulsively as she sobbed. His arms hung in midair, he wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't the best at comforting people, but felt like it was his fault that she was like this in the first place, so he started to trace small circles on her back; hoping it would be of some help.

He wished Iris would have put her in more than just a t-shirt, but knew that she had probably done it on purpose just to make him uncomfortable. He could feel her bare legs against his, he could feel her barely clothed chest—and to his surprise he felt a lot more comfortable than he thought he would have. He would insist that she wear a pair of his pajama bottoms, it was too cold for her to just merely be wearing a t-shirt.

Apparently his act of comforting worked, as her sobs subsided to just crying. He let out a loud sigh of relief. Crying women was one of his weaknesses, but he wouldn't dare tell anyone that for fear that they would use it against him. He was taken by surprise when she grasped his shirt in her hands, her eyes desperate as they gazed into his. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't look away. With tears streaming down the sides of her face she softly said, "Iris told me to save my tears for someone who cares. You still care, don't you, Mistel?"

"Of course I still care," he fiercely responded. "Please pay no mind to what she told you. I am so terribly angry with her right now, I can't believe she decided that traumatizing you for a third time tonight would be a good idea."

"I've...hurt you, haven't I?" Beatrice whispered, looking away and fixating her eyes on the floor.

 _She_ sounded hurt, and it put a pang in his heart hearing her that way. Did the thought of hurting him hurt her? He hoped that it didn't—but at the same time, he kind of hoped that it did. He put his hand to her chin and tilted it to meet his gaze, replying simply, "I won't lie to you, Beatrice. You have hurt me, but you didn't deserve Iris's harsh words. You owe nothing to me, so if anything I've hurt myself with my own feelings. I shouldn't of done what I did, I should have just walked away and let you kiss him—you can kiss whomever you'd like."

"That's the thing, though..." she mumbled. "I'd rather kiss you. Can't you ever forgive me?"

"You've already been forgiven," he said with a smile. "But, I'm afraid, if you'd rather kiss me then this is the last time I'll be _able_ to forgive you, is that understood?"

"Yes..." she muttered miserably.

"Will you be able to forgive yourself, is the real question."

Her grasp on his shirt loosened and she sighed, "No, I don't think so..."

"Well, you must," he insisted. "I will not have you hating yourself over me, that's just absurd. Now, I would like for you to put on a pair of my pajama pants and get into bed—it's nearly midnight and you have work to do tomorrow, I'm sure!"

"Okay...but where will _you_ sleep?"

"In bed next to you, of course!" he chuckled, flashing her a big grin. "Or if it would make you more comfortable you could sleep on the sofa, but either way I'll have to stay with you."

"Wh-why?" she stammered, looking slightly taken aback.

"You've drank so much tonight, my love, I'm afraid you will choke on your vomit in your sleep. For what other reason than to look after you would I have insisted that you stay over?"

"I'm not sure if Klaus would like that..." she trailed.

He felt his heart skip a beat and his eye twitch. " _Klaus?_ What would _Klaus_ care?"

"We often have tea, and apparently he has come to think of me as a younger sister. He warned me not to stay over a boy's house. Of course I already knew that, but the way he said it...it frightened me a little."

"Well, I'm a man, not a boy, so the subject is moot," he said with a devilish grin. _She often has tea with him? How much tea is she having? Does she just go around having tea with everyone?_

"He said _especially_ men," she giggled, and the mere sound lifted his spirits. She didn't sound nearly as drunk anymore, and she sounded _happy_ again; to top it off, he had no doubt that he had _made_ her happy.

"Well, then, I suppose you're just going to have to trust me as your best friend not to do anything distasteful and to just make sure you get through the night alive."

"As my best friend I can trust you, but as someone who's in love with me I'm not so sure...With love comes lust, does it not?"

" _Trust_ me, my love overrides my lust by approximately ten-thousand percent," he said, trying to suppress another smile. She looked so confused by the statement. He turned around and bent his body slightly, opening his bottom drawer to pull out a pair of pajama pants. He handed them to her and turned back around, saying, "Let me know when you've finished."

After a moment he heard her say in her usual sing-song voice, "All done." He couldn't help but to smile at the sight of her, she looked utterly adorable. Although her eyes were slightly swollen, the rubies shone with joy. She grinned so large that her dimples showed, and her cheeks were tinted a slight pink. He put his hands to either side of her face, longing gazing into her eyes—he couldn't help himself, the look was too much for him. She let out a small gasp as her blush deepened, and from this close up he noticed small freckles sprawled across her cheeks and nose—he couldn't believe he had never noticed them before.

He wasn't aware she could look anymore adorable, and before he could do something that he would later regret he softly pressed his lips to her forehead; although he really wished he would have been pressing them to hers. "Please get in bed, before I take you there myself," he said in a teasing tone, leaning back slightly and giving her a small smirk.

"Fine, fine," she sighed, then jumped into his bed and pulled his purple blanket around herself. He grabbed his waste bucket and put it on the floor next to her head, just in case—he didn't want to have to clean up vomit if she did decide she needed to in the middle of the night, or in the morning. He carefully crawled in bed beside her, and let out a large sigh. He was glad that the day was over, it had been a whirlwind of emotions and he was exhausted.

To his surprise she wrapped herself around him, putting her arm across his chest and laying her head against it; right next to his aching heart. The ache felt different now, though. Instead of feeling like it might crush him it felt like there was a longing in it; one that he wasn't sure how to subside. He hoped she couldn't feel the way it beat so quickly, and he attempted to steady his breathing in order to steady his heart.

"Goodnight, darling," he heard her sleepily murmur against him, and he felt his eyes widen in shock and slight disbelief. Had his ears deceived him, did she really just call him darling? He felt his chest swell with pure happiness, and leaned down to sweetly kiss her forehead again, whispering back, "Goodnight, my love."

He could feel her grinning against him, and her arm around him tightened. He liked the way her warmth felt around him, it made him feel a comfort he had never felt before. He listened as her breathing evened out, and after a couple of minutes she started to snore softly. He snorted. He would have never taken her as someone who snored. It didn't bother him though, to him it was music to his ears.

He felt his lips twitch into a huge grin. This was by far the happiest he had felt in years. Although the night had its ups and downs, at least it had ended on a good note. He had a lot to ponder about now. Was she in love with him, as well? He truly couldn't take the anticipation anymore. If this was still a game to her then she was playing it awfully well. He had a feeling it wasn't. She was just a sad girl who longed for attention, perhaps even more than he. He would shower her with attention if that's what she desired. He would do just about anything to make her happy, so long as it didn't interfere with his own happiness.

Mistel fell asleep quickly that night with a grin plastered on his face; his heart happy in his chest and his head filled with hope.

* * *

 _A/N: Not too happy with the ending, but it will have to do. Anyway, so apparently don't mess with Iris or Mistel. Hoped you liked the chapter, and as always if you're reading please review ^.^_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I hope you didn't think I was devaluing women in the last chapter—that was /not/ my intent. I wanted to leave it up to the reader to put together their own conclusion on who was to blame, and who did what wrong. Honestly, in my mind everyone did everything wrong. But that's the thing—people aren't perfect, they make haste decisions based on emotions they can't control. Beatrice shouldn't of gotten so drunk and shouldn't of kissed Fritz, and he shouldn't of kissed her back. But like I said—people make mistakes. Mistel shouldn't of jumped to conclusions and punched Fritz, either, but haven't you ever felt so jealous or angry that you acted irrationally? I don't think I need to justify last chapter, I'm sure you're smart enough to understand what I was trying to say_ _._

 _Thank you for the reviews! Please no flames, though, my little heart can't take it. Constructive criticism is fine. I'm sorry if I haven't gotten back to you, but I usually do! So please keep them coming, they make my day._

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Beatrice awoke with a start and quickly opened her eyes only to abruptly shut them again. She was in bed with a man—that much was clear. She felt her stomach flip and a nauseating feeling residing in it. To make matters worse, she was awfully hungover. _Fantastic,_ she thought sarcastically to herself. She could hardly remember anything that had happened last night, and that only made her feel even more sick to her stomach. _What have I_ done _?_

She loosened her arm that was around the unknown man and inhaled in his scent—it wasn't difficult, her head was resting on his chest. He smelt of...herb tea? She knew it wasn't Fritz, he always smelled like he had just gotten done mowing the lawn. She craned her neck up slightly and slowly opened one eye, then quickly squeezed them both shut tight. It was _Mistel_ , and he was grinning down at her mischievously with an even more mischievous glint in his eyes. She was utterly mortified. _Oh, gods, what have I done?_

She let go of him and turned on her back, putting both of her hands over her still shut eyes. She groaned loudly, despite her head pounding in her ears. She heard Mistel hastily ask, "Beatrice, are you all right?"

"Am I wearing clothes?" she hastened to ask instead of answering the question. _Please tell me I'm wearing clothes._

"Yes, you're wearing clothes," she heard him chuckle.

"Did we...?" she trailed, not really sure if she wanted to know the answer.

" _No!_ " she heard him defensively say. "Can't you remember anything from last night? And won't you please open your eyes?"

"No, and no—I think I'd rather keep them shut, thank you very much," she replied simply.

"Beatrice, _please_ ," he sighed. "Open them so I can talk to you properly. You are being absurd."

"Nope," she said in a sing-song voice.

"If you don't open them I'm afraid I'm going to have to force you," Mistel said teasingly, and she shook her head violently in response. She felt the bed shift as he put his legs on either side of hers, gently grabbing her arms while he hoovered above her. She felt heat quickly rise in her face. What did he think he was doing? When did he get so much confidence?

He pried her hands from her eyes and gently pinned them to the bed. He gazed down at her with a devilish grin and she noticed his violet eyes shone with desire. _Desire?_ Her heart started to beat rapidly in her chest. If her face was pink before she knew it was bright crimson now. Was he lying when he said nothing had happened between them last night? Perhaps she should have been more specific, surely _something_ had to of happened between them for him to be acting like this.

"Ah, now isn't that better? Now I can see that adorable blush of yours," he teased, his eyes searching every inch of her face.

"Mistel, uh, would you mind getting off of me? I thought you wanted to talk properly, and surely this isn't what you meant by properly, correct?" she asked nervously, her voice cracking every couple of words.

"Erm—of course, please excuse me," he replied simply, crawling off of her and laying back down again. He leaned on his side so that he faced her, his arm propped up on his pillow with his hand on his head. "So what _do_ you remember?" he wondered, his smirk returning.

"Well, I remember having dinner with Fritz," she began, and she saw him wince out of the corner of her eye. "Then we...well, had some wine... After that he walked me home and..." She didn't need to say more, as the memories of the past night resurfaced and ran through her mind with a relentless passion. "Oh my stars!" she gasped, heaving slightly. She felt her stomach turn once more and leaned over the side of the bed, silently thanking that there was a waste bucket there as she felt vomit make its way up her throat and to her mouth, violently spewing it out and into the bucket.

She felt Mistel grab a hold of her hair and hold it back as she continued to throw up. She heard him laugh loudly, "I'm glad I thought to put a bucket there, otherwise we would have quite a big mess on our hands!"

She vomited once more then dry heaved a couple of times. They already had a big mess on their hands, how could he not see that—and why was he being so nice to her after all she did to him? After all she did in general? She remembered him saying that he forgave her, but thinking about it now she didn't really believe it was possible to forgive a person for such a thing. She wouldn't of forgiven him that easily if the tables had been turned. Was he really that infatuated with her? The thought filled her with joy, which quickly dissolved into self-loathing. She didn't deserve any kind of happiness.

"Do you have a towel or something I could wipe my mouth off with?" she asked. She didn't want him to see her like this. She didn't want to disgust him. If he really thought her to be so beautiful she didn't want to distort the image of her in his head; he had already seen her drunk, and she didn't want him to think any less of her than he probably already did.

"I have some tissues underneath my pillow, will that suffice?" he returned.

"Um..." she trailed, her head still hung over the side of the bed. She could only think of one reason why a man would have tissues underneath his pillow, and if her assumption was correct she didn't want to wipe _that_ across her mouth.

"I swear they are unused! I keep them there just in case. You never know when a hungover women will be hurling over the side of your bed," he teased, laughing loudly. She felt him let go of her hair and a moment later his hand appeared next to her head with a couple of tissues. She grabbed them and wiped them across her mouth a couple of times, making sure to get the corners as to not miss any. She threw the tissues into the bucket and spit once into it in order to get the vile taste out of her mouth.

She bent her body back around to see Mistel grinning at her. Why was he so happy? This whole situation was wrong, _everything_ was wrong. How could he not see that she didn't deserve to be smiled at, that she didn't deserve his kindness? Iris was right for hating her. She was an awful, selfish person.

"You even look adorable right after you've hurled," Mistel said, his grin widening.

She had had enough of his kindness. She abruptly jumped out of his bed and started pacing back and forth, her hands going to her brunette locks around her face to tightly grasp them and harshly yank on them. She cried out desperately, "Mistel, what have I _done?_ What have _you_ done? What in the world are we going to do?"

His face dropped as he murmured, "I don't think we need to do anything, really."

"Of course we do," she scoffed, shooting him a nasty look. "We need to apologize to Fritz."

She saw him wince again. "I really wish you wouldn't say that word," he muttered. "I would hate to have to ask you to wash your mouth out with soap—although after all that vomiting it may be needed."

"Oh, shut up Mistel!" she spat. "He deserves an apology from both of us. Now would you please get my dress so I can move along with what is surely going to be a horrible day."

His eyes widened in shock at her outburst and he stammered, "O-of course, I'll be only a moment." He quickly climbed out of his bed and left the room. Not even a minute later he returned with her farm dress in hand, his face twisted into a displeased look. He handed her the dress as he uttered, "Klaus is here, and he would like to speak with you once you've finished getting changed."

" _Wonderful_ ," she said sarcastically. "That's exactly what I need right now—to be scolded; as I have no doubt that's why he wants to speak to me."

"He does look a bit angry..." Mistel trailed, then averted his eyes as his face turned solemn. "Beatrice...are _you_ angry with me?"

"No, Mistel, I'm not," she sighed loudly. "I'm a little disappointed in you, but not nearly as disappointed as I am with myself. I don't like violence, but I can't say I blame you for what you did. If I had been in your shoes...well, I think I may have done the same."

"Please don't be disappointed in yourself. I hate to see you looking so down," he said softly, looking back into her eyes. "You made a mistake, as everyone is bound to do once in a while. You will learn from it and grow as a person—so please, no more self-loathing. You are much more beautiful when you're happy." He gave her a crooked smile, and she scowled at him.

"Stop being so kind to me! I don't deserve your kindness. Iris hates me, Klaus is angry with me, and Fritz probably hates me, as well. I haven't the slightest clue why _you_ don't hate me, as you have every right to hate my guts and never speak a word to me again!" she boomed, and he started. She even startled herself by how loud she spoke.

He hung his head low and solemnly muttered, "As much as I want to hate you, I just can't bring myself to... It may seem like Iris hates you now, but she'll come around—I'll talk to her, so don't give that a second thought. I'll leave you alone to allow you to get changed. Once you're done please meet me in the apartment. I'll stay with you to make sure Klaus doesn't scold you too harshly—you don't deserve a repeat of what Iris said to you last night."

She gave a small nod and Mistel walked over to his dresser, opening drawers and taking articles of clothing out of each. He picked up his boots from the ground and looked at her for a moment to flash her another smirk before he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. She did think she deserved to be scolded a thousand times for what she had done, but didn't want to upset him anymore with her own self hatred. She quickly changed out of the borrowed pajamas and into her dress, which was still a bit damp. She took a couple of moments to breathe deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves; she was so anxious she trembled to the very ends of her fingertips.

After one more deep breath she opened the door to see Klaus and Iris sitting at the dining area, then not even a second later Mistel appeared from Iris's room—apparently they had finished changing at the same time. Klaus and Iris both looked at her in unison, not even glancing in Mistel's direction. Klaus stood and straightened out his tailcoat, and Mistel walked over to her and grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Klaus cleared his throat and slightly narrowed his eyes at her, then firmly said, "Bee, I have to be frank—I'm very disappointed in you. When you told me about your dinner with Fritz I warned you to be careful. I was young and reckless once and I know all too well how young men think. Not only that, Iris has told me that you were the one who initiated the kiss. If you fancied him and weren't inebriated it would be a completely different story—but you don't fancy him, do you?" Klaus's eyes looked to their linked fingers for a moment.

"No, Klaus, I don't," she murmured, and Mistel gave her hand another squeeze.

"I also warned you not to stay over a man's house," Klaus said, then looked to Mistel and harshly said, "I hope you were able to keep your hands to yourself."

"You're one to speak," Mistel spat. "The walls are rather thin, you know—so don't think for a moment that I can't hear you whispering my sister's name like a prayer. And you don't even have the decency to court her properly. It's been nearly a year and a half since you've been sleeping with her, don't you think it's about time to give her a ring to show her how much you care for her? Or do you not care for her at all? Do you just intend on stringing her along until you get bored of screwing her?"

" _Mistel_ , that's _enough!_ " Iris boomed, loudly slapping her hands on the table and quickly standing up. "Me and Klaus's personal business is none of your concern. We are two consenting adults who will do what we wish." Iris had said it angrily, but the way she looked at her and Mistel made her feel like Iris may have been jealous, that perhaps she wished Klaus would hold her hand and show affection as Mistel did with her.

Beatrice cast her eyes to Klaus to see his face had turned beet red from what she assumed was a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and guilt. "Let's please return to the subject at hand," Klaus huffed, refusing to look Mistel in the eyes. "You all need to apologize to each other, Fritz included." He turned to Iris and said, "And Iris, I think you owe an apology to Bee, as well. She may have hurt your brother and made an awful mistake, but she didn't deserve your harsh words."

Iris crossed an arm under her chest and pressed her breasts together, making them appear larger than they already were while she whined, "But _love..."_

Klaus's eyes lingered on her cleavage for a moment while his cheeks turned a pink hue. He quickly composed himself and shook his head, then growled, "But _nothing_ , Iris. You have made plenty of mistakes at Bee's age, perhaps even worse mistakes. Do I need to remind you of them?"

"Don't you _dare_ ," Iris hissed, glaring at Klaus. "Unless you would like for _this_ to be taken away from you for a season." She gestured up and down her torso as she said it, her hand faltering at her cleavage—which of course caught Klaus's eye.

Mistel looked at Beatrice and chuckled under his breath, beaming at her. Klaus muttered, "Please don't threaten to take our acts of love away, it's very unbecoming of you."

"Our acts of love? More like acts of lust," Iris scoffed, crossing her arms underneath her chest and pushing them up once more.

"Ah-hem," Beatrice coughed so that they would acknowledge that her and Mistel were still in the room. She had never been more uncomfortable in her entire life. "I was just about to get Fritz to apologize to him, would you like to come with me Mistel? Just get it over and done with, you know?" She would go alone, but Mistel's hand in hers was comforting her and she really didn't want to let go anytime soon.

Mistel huffed loudly and Klaus said, "No need. I already told him to come here after he's done at the clinic. He should be here any minute. In the mean time, I believe Iris and Bee have some talking they need to do."

Before Iris could say anything Beatrice frantically spewed out, "Iris, I am so, _so_ sorry. I didn't ever intend for it to happen, it just did. I know I'm an awful, selfish person and you have every right to hate me, and I don't expect for you to forgive me anytime soon. I just wish you wouldn't detest me like so, if only you knew how much I hate myself right now..." She felt her eyes fill with water, and a single tear dripped down her face.

Iris's facial expression softened and she sighed, "Perhaps I was a little too hard on you... It was one mistake—although a very bad one—but if you promise and mean it this time then maybe I can find it in my heart to forgive you. I really do care for you Bee, and I only want what's best for you." Iris looked at Mistel and smiled, then said, "And I think I know _who's_ best for you." She looked back at her and asked, "So, do you promise, and mean it this time? Will we never have to go through this unpleasantness again?"

Beatrice felt a slight heat rise in her face, and looked to Mistel to see his cheeks tinted pink. "Yes, I promise," she said firmly. "If I ever do anything so foolish again you have my permission to slap me as hard as you can."

"Well, let's hope it never has to come to that," Iris returned, but she smiled brightly at her. Beatrice felt like an elephant had been lifted off of her chest. She wasn't sure if she would ever even have the nerve to return to their house again if Iris abhorred her like she did just moments ago, and it had made her sick to her stomach thinking that she wouldn't be able to see Mistel so often anymore.

Mistel smirked at her and squeezed her hand again, saying, "See, I told you she would come around. So please, won't you smile for me?"

She flashed him her brilliant smile, then let go of his hand wrapped her arms around his torso to tightly embrace him—she couldn't help herself, she just felt so _happy_. She noticed his body was tense, and his arms hung hesitatingly at his sides. After a moment she felt his body relax and he gently put his arms around her waist, leaning his head on hers and letting out a small sigh. She could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, which only made her own heart beat that much quicker.

Her moment of happiness abruptly ended as she heard the door open. She knew Mistel's had been, too, as his body tensed up again. She was frozen in shock for a moment and she felt the color drain from her face—she knew exactly who it was. She should have known not to allow herself to feel happy—it never lasts. Mistel released her and to her surprise tightly grasped her hand again, standing so close to her that their arms touched. It was abundantly clear that Mistel knew who it was, as well, as his face twisted into a scowl at the sound of hearing clumsy footsteps run up the stairs.

Beatrice turned her head to where she knew Fritz would be appearing at any moment, and saw that Klaus had his eyes fixated on the floor with a hand over his face to conceal his blush—she figured he must have been embarrassed at watching her and Mistel hugging. Iris, though, was looking at them both with an amused expression sprawled across her face, beaming brightly at the both of them.

Fritz rounded the corner and they all looked at him in unison. Beatrice gasped loudly at the sight of him—he looked absolutely _awful_. His nose had several bandages over it and he had two black eyes. He looked downright miserable and he solemnly sighed, "Hiya, guys." He looked to Klaus and Iris and said, "Morning, Mister Klaus and Miss Iris."

Iris's face twisted into a displeased look and she glared at Fritz for a moment as she harshly said, "Please, Fritz, call me Iris. The 'Miss' is hardly necessary, do I look as old as Miss Veronica to you?"

Fritz's face turned bright crimson and Klaus shot Iris a glare before turning his attention back to Fritz. "So, what did Marian say about your injuries?"

"The doc said it's just a broken nose...but apparently you get two black eyes when you get punched too hard in the nose. I'm homely enough as is, now no girl is ever gonna wanna date me," Fritz muttered, hanging his head.

Iris looked sympathetically at Fritz and said reassuringly, "Dear, please don't be so hard on yourself. Your nose will heal and your black eyes will go away in no time. You're rather adorable with all those freckles, and I hear Angela often visits you... Perhaps you should ask her out on a date?"

"You really think so?!" Fritz exclaimed excitedly, his lips twitching into a goofy smile. Iris smiled back and nodded her head.

Beatrice noticed that Klaus's face distorted in a scowl for a moment, appearing to her that he was jealous at hearing Iris call Fritz's freckles adorable. She looked to Mistel to smile at him, but it quickly turned into a grimace as she noticed that his eyes were narrowed and fixated on Fritz, and she had no doubt they had been that way since he arrived.

"I believe it's time for apologies now," Klaus said, looking to Mistel. "Would you like to go first?"

Mistel said sarcastically, "I'm _sorry._ "

"Sincerely, Mistel, please," Klaus sighed, tightly pinching the bridge of his nose.

Mistel looked away as his face turned mournful. He solemnly uttered, "I truly do apologize for what I have done. I was just so very jealous, and then I thought you had purposely poured wine down poor Beatrice's throat to take advantage of her. I jumped to conclusions, and for that I am sorry. I hope your face heals quickly."

"Thank you, Mistel. That was much more sincere," Klaus said simply.

Fritz gave a slight smile and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Beatrice frantically exclaimed, "I'm so sorry, Fritz! I shouldn't of kissed you when we were drinking, it was foolish of me and I'm so utterly ashamed. I shouldn't of kissed you in general—I'm sorry, I just don't feel that way about you. There was no spark...I hope you feel the same. I hope we can remain friends and that you can forgive me for what I have done..." _Because I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself._ She felt tears fill her eyes again and started to silently cry. Mistel tightened his grip on her hand and gave her a pained look.

Fritz stammered, "It's o-okay, Bee! P-please don't cry! I shouldn't of ever kissed you in the first place, stupid hormones! And if I would've known you already liked someone I wouldn't of ever asked you to dinner in the first place. I'm _so_ sorry, too. Please, let's stay buds!"

"Like someone?" Beatrice squeaked, feeling her face flare as tears steadily dripped down the sides of her face.

"Well, yeah!" Fritz exclaimed, looking to her and Mistel. "I've never seen you hold hands with anyone before... And you're standing awfully close to each other. I'm pretty sure friends don't hold hands... Or get jealous, either."

Mistel chuckled loudly, "Mind your own business, would you, Fritz?"

Fritz put a hand to his hip as his expression turned into one of discomfort. He mumbled, "Er...That seemed to have struck a nerve. Sorry 'bout that. Didn't know you two didn't—"

Iris cut him off, nervously laughing, "How about me and Klaus take you home now, Fritz? Now that all this unpleasantness is out of the way I think a nice stroll would do us some good. Plus, I think these two need some time to talk alone."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Fritz sputtered, and Iris grabbed him by the hand and led him down the stairs. Klaus huffed loudly, but followed them nonetheless.

Once they heard the door close Mistel let go of her hand and turned to her, then put his hands to her face and wiped away the tears that were still falling with his thumbs. He longingly gazed into her eyes and softly asked, "Beatrice, why are you crying? Everything is fine now, and you know how much it pains me to see you cry."

" _Everything's_ not fine, now," she choked, a sob racking through her body. "No matter how many apologizes are said it doesn't matter. I've hurt you, and in doing so I've hurt myself. You've forgiven me, why? Why would you be such a fool to forgive me? I can't forgive myself, so how can you forgive me?"

"If you say you remember last night then surely you must know why I've forgiven you," Mistel said softly. "Now please, for my sake, no more tears—and no more self-loathing. It's breaking my heart seeing you like this."

"No promises," Beatrice muttered, feeling another tear slide down her cheek. "What do we do now?"

"For now, nothing," Mistel said flatly. "Now is not the right time or place for us to discuss what we need to. I need to open shop, I'm already late as is."

"I understand," Beatrice solemnly uttered, feeling her heart sink into her stomach. She was hoping that he might finally confess his feelings for her properly—not that she felt like she deserved to hear a confession, but she knew that it would make him happy to hear she felt the same; and at this point all she cared for was his happiness.

Mistel softly kissed her forehead and she felt her heart flutter, her spirits instantly lifting by the feeling of his lips on her skin. He pulled away and looked back into her eyes, asking, "How does Tuesday sound to you? I'll close shop that day so we can talk. I'll meet you at the little bridge, say around nine? If that is all right, of course."

"Yes, I think that will do," she mumbled. Tuesday felt like an eternity away to her.

"Please, smile for me before you leave," Mistel said in a desperate tone, still wiping away her tears.

She gave a feigned smile and he said, "No, not like that. A real one."

"Perhaps for a hug..." she trailed. She wanted to feel his warmth surrounding her one more time, hoping it would subside her aching heart if only for a moment.

He let go of her face and gently embraced her, tracing small circles on her back like he did the night before. The feeling immediately filled her with a sense of calmness, one that was unfamiliar and highly welcomed. They stood like that for a moment, and then he pulled away—which only made the aching in her heart worsen. "I would like a smile now, please," he said teasingly, crookedly smiling at her.

She returned his crooked smile, although she had tried her hardest to flash him a brilliant one; but she just couldn't muster up the will. She wanted more than anything to embrace him again, to feel his heart beating against hers and his arms around her. Instead she whispered, "Goodbye, Mistel. I'm looking forward to Tuesday."

"As am I. Farewell, Beatrice. I miss you already, and you haven't even left yet!" Mistel said, beaming at her so brightly she felt her heart speed up. She turned around and quickly left, leaving her heart behind her with him. She knew he would treat it better than she would.

As she walked back to her farm her emotions kept rapidly changing. She would feel awful for one second, then elated the next, which would quickly turn into disgust. She didn't know how to feel, or what to do. Mistel was in love with her, she knew that for certain. No one had ever been in love with her before. No one had ever cared for her so much. No one had ever been pained by seeing her hurt. There was something about that that made her feel warm and comforted in her soul.

But was she in love with him? She couldn't be sure, she had never been in love before. In lust, maybe, but not in _love_. Yet it hurt so very badly to be apart from him, and hurt even worse to see him in pain. If what she read in books was correct then she was in love—she knew she had to be, otherwise it wouldn't hurt so much. Love may be a beautiful thing, but she also knew it could be cruel and painful. It _was_ cruel and painful.

She never wanted to see the pain in his eyes due to her ever again, she had caused enough trouble. If forgiving herself would make him happy then she would—or at the very least try her hardest. She chuckled dryly to herself. _I'm in love, and the books were correct—it does hurt._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Sorry it took me song long to write this chapter, it's not one I particularly like; but can't like them all, right? Anyway, if you were wondering what song Mistel was listening to over and over again in chapter four it was Arctic Monkey's "Do I wanna know?" I just thought it fit his feelings for her perfectly. Also, this is the first of Winter, so spoilers if you haven't made it that far yet. Also, why is it so hard to describe Veronica's facial expressions?! I will never do it again._

 _ *****_ _By the way, at the end of this chapter Mistel and Iris are speaking french. My french is limited, so I needed to use a translator, I used one and thought it was fine but went back and it was all funky so just use google translator. It still came out a little funky. You may be thinking, "Why do they need to speak french?" and the answer is because I have weird headcanons. I recommend you translate, it's très drôle (very funny)._

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

Mistel should have known. Winter brought nothing but sadness; nothing but terrible, terrible things. He stood at the center of the little bridge, pacing back and forth while fingering the ring in his pocket. He had been waiting there since eight-thirty, and now it was nearly ten. They had agreed to meet at nine, and he was beginning to worry—she was always so punctual. Had she gotten cold feet? He chuckled dryly at the thought, since his feet were so cold he was afraid that if he stood out here for awhile longer that he might get frostbite.

He looked to his hands which were reddened by the cold and cursed the bandages that were wrapped around his knuckles. He had crafted a ring for Beatrice the day prior and since his line of work did little help to harden his hands he had injured them in the crafting. He would have loved to have given her a beautiful antique ring that he had at his shop, but Iris insisted that the tradition in town was to make one yourself; to put hard work and love into it to show the person how much you truly care for them.

He could only think of two people who would have the tools to craft a ring—Beatrice and Fritz; and since he very well couldn't ask Beatrice to use her crafting table to make a ring he had reluctantly went to Fritz. Although Fritz didn't have a crafting table (he couldn't afford one) he had tools that could be used to craft a ring—which made it much harder to craft one; hence why his hands were more injured than they would have been if he had used a crafting table instead. Fritz was more than happy to help, overjoyed, even, and Mistel really hoped that Fritz didn't think that they were friends now. He would never be able to forgive him for kissing Beatrice, even if it was consensual and the apologizes were said. He was still jealous; he wanted to be the one to kiss her first. He hardly said a word to him the whole time the ring was being crafted, and as soon as it was finished he gave him a halfhearted thank you and abruptly left.

He sold silver at his shop so that was very easy to acquire and had an amethyst lying around the shop so he had decided to craft her a violet ring. He had a lot of gems lying around the shop, but picked the amethyst at random. He had no idea what her favorite color was, and that irked him a little. They were best friends, perhaps soon to be lovers, and he thought that by now he should have known what her favorite color was. He had no doubt she knew his, since on his birthday she had wrapped his gift in his favorite colors—purple and white.

By now he was feeling so anxious that he trembled to the very ends of his fingertips. Beatrice should have been there by now, she should have been there an hour ago. He feared that perhaps she had collapsed and was laying face down on the snow covered ground just waiting for the cold to overcome her and end her life. He shook his head to get the thought out; it was one of the worst things he had ever imagined.

He couldn't take it a moment longer, and quickly ran off the bridge and started his way up the mountain trail. If she had collapsed he needed to find her before she succumbed to death, he would never be able to forgive himself if he didn't get to her farm in time to save her. He ran as quick as his legs would carry him, but as soon as he reached the forest area he stopped dead in his tracks. Fritz was walking away from the direction of her farm, his head hung low with tears streaming down his face.

As Mistel approached him Fritz's head shot up, his eyes red and puffy. His injuries were healing quickly. Although he still had bandages on his nose, his bruised eyes were now a shade of yellow instead of purple like they were a few days prior. "Fritz..." he hesitatingly said. "What has happened?"

"Granny..." Fritz choked, a sob racking through his body. "She...she died."

"Oh, I see," Mistel said soberly. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Madam Eda was always very kind to me. She visited my shop often, and always encouraged me when I didn't have many customers when I first came to town. I will miss her greatly."

"We're gonna have a memorial service for her tonight, do you think you could come? I'm sure it would mean a lot to granny knowing you were there...and to Bee," Fritz murmured, hanging his head again.

"Yes, I'll be there," Mistel answered softly. "Speaking of Beatrice, how is she fairing? Is she all right?"

"She's...okay. She was cryin' pretty hard at granny's bedside, but then after she passed Bee stopped and said how sorry she felt for me, knowing how close we were..." Fritz trailed, then hesitatingly said, "She's a strong one, Bee. You're one lucky guy. Make her happy, please."

"If she accepts me I'll make her the happiest woman alive," Mistel said under his breath. "Where is she now?"

"Home. I-I'm sorry, but I better get home myself. I s'pose I should take a nap before the memorial," Fritz whispered, barely audible. Fritz fixated his eyes on the ground as he walked past him, and Mistel could hear him sobbing again as he walked away.

No longer in a rush, Mistel began to slowly make his way to her farm. He wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at her home. Would she be weeping? Would he have to cradle her head against his chest and tell her that everything was going to be okay? Or would she be fine; that perhaps death didn't bother her as much as it did other people. He hadn't the slightest clue what he would find when he saw her.

As he reached her farm he took a moment to take several deep breaths—or rather gasps, as he was having a hard time catching his breath. He respected Beatrice more than ever; he had no idea how she was able to walk up and down the mountain trial everyday, it was exhausting. He started his way toward her home and was in awe at how much she had accomplished in the short amount of time she had owned the land. She had several barns and a chicken coop, along with many buildings that he figured were used to make products out of her farming goods.

When he reached her door he hesitated for a moment. After several deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm his nerves he knocked softly on her door two times. He heard a creak of a bed then small footsteps approach the door, his heart speeding up as he heard the doorknob turn. Beatrice opened the door and her ruby eyes widened at the sight of him, and she let out a loud gasp as she abruptly closed the door in his face.

"Uh...Beatrice?" he said, knocking on the door again. "May I speak to you for a little while? I want to make sure you are all right."

Beatrice slowly opened the door again, then solemnly murmured with her head hung low, "I'm sorry for closing the door on you like that...With all that happened today I had completely forgotten about how I was suppose to meet you...and when I saw you I felt so bad for forgetting that I wasn't sure what to do."

"Please don't be upset about that, you've been upset enough for one day as is," he said softly. "I was so awfully worried about you when you didn't show up, I was afraid you had collapsed—so I ran over here as fast as I could."

"You must be freezing!" she exclaimed, gaping at him. "Please, come in. I'll make us some tea to warm you up."

"That would be wonderful, thank you," he said with a crooked grin.

"What happened to your hands!?" she gasped, grabbing them and thoroughly examining them.

"Oh, nothing," he nervously laughed. "It's a funny story, actually. I'll tell you later."

" _Fine_ ," she huffed, puffing out her cheeks and releasing his hands.

She walked over to her kitchen and Mistel crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him. He was a little surprised at how she was acting. Her ruby eyes were rimmed in red as if she had been crying all morning, but she seemed okay now. He took a moment to gaze around her house. Her walls were purple—which made him happy, thinking that perhaps maybe purple was her favorite color, too—and her floor was dark wooden floorboards. She had a nice elegant dining table with chairs to match. He was surprised to see that she had a double bed, which had blue covers. He wondered if blue was her second favorite color. His eyes widened in shock when he saw that her bedside table held a vase with yellow roses in them. Had she, perhaps, found them after he had dropped them? There was no other reasonable explanation.

After thoroughly looking around the room he walked over to her kitchen. She had already put the kettle on the stove and ignited the burner. She reached up to her cabinet to grab two tea cups and was having a hard time reaching them, even though she was on her tiptoes.

"No need to strain yourself, I'll get them for you," Mistel said simply, reaching up and grabbing them for her. She gave a slight nod as a thanks, and took them from his hands to place them on her dining table. When she turned back around to face him her lashes were beaded with tears. He felt his chest clench. She had been trying her hardest to put on a strong front, and he was irritated with himself for not knowing right away.

He softly grabbed her hand and linked his fingers with hers. Beatrice fixated her eyes on the floor and Mistel whispered, "Please don't hold back your tears. It's a good thing to cry. I know you're trying to be strong but an awful thing happened today. So, please, cry if you need to."

"I don't want to upset you... You hate to see me cry," Beatrice murmured, giving his hand a small squeeze.

Mistel gently lifted her chin to meet his gaze. He smiled crookedly and said, "It does upset me, but you need to cry. You need to mourn. She meant so much to you, I'm sure."

Tears started to stream down her face and before he could even react she embraced him tightly. She softly sobbed upon his shoulder and he gathered her close to him. He could feel her heartbeat against his his chest, and his own heart started beating rapidly by their closeness. He always felt so content when they were this close—comforted, even, and wondered if she felt the same. Her sobs began to subside and she whispered against his shoulder, "You're so kind to me...and I'm always so awful to you. You'll never understand how happy it makes me when you're so close to me."

"I understand perfectly; I feel the same way," he said under his breath, but he knew that she could hear him. "You've warmed me up, so I don't think the tea will be necessary anymore—unless you would like some. And please never say you treat me awfully again, you treat me wonderfully. I enjoy every moment with you."

She let go of him and put a hand to his cheek, gazing into his violet eyes with an intensity in her stare; one that he had never seen in her eyes before when looking into his. No one had ever looked at him like that before, he felt as if she was looking directly into his soul. _Is this a look of love?_ he thought skeptically to himself. He felt his chest swell with pure joy. "I think I'll pass on the tea..." Beatrice said softly. "If you're warm then I'm fine; I don't need any tea to comfort me. You've comforted me enough just by being here."

"All right, then," Mistel said, his heart beating faster—if that was even possible—then reached over to turn the knob on the stove until the flames were extinguished. "The memorial is happening later in the evening, as you probably already know. Why don't you take a nap before it starts? I'm sure you must be exhausted from crying."

"You're right," Beatrice sighed. "I suppose I should...but would you mind laying next to me?"

"Of course," he replied softly. "Would you like to lay down now? You'll have a couple of hours to sleep before the memorial."

"Yes, I think that would be best," Beatrice said, then walked over to her bed and laid down on the side closest to the wall. Mistel followed her and took off his boots before laying down next to her. He pulled the blankets around them and Beatrice wrapped an arm around his torso and laid her head against his chest; snuggling up close to him. He felt his heartbeat accelerate and could feel her own beating rapidly against his side.

"She left her land to me..." Beatrice trailed in a low tone.

"That was very kind of her. I couldn't help but to notice that your land is looking a little overcrowded; perhaps now that you have more space you could move some of your buildings onto her land."

"Do you really think I deserve it?" Beatrice whispered against his chest.

"You've worked so hard, of course you deserve it. You must have meant a lot to her for her to give you her land."

"I suppose..." Beatrice said solemnly. "She has a grandson, don't you think he deserves it?"

"If she wanted you to have it then he must not care much for farming," Mistel said firmly. "Accept what's been given to you. I have no doubt you will do magnificent things with the land."

"That's not true, though!" Beatrice exclaimed. "Madam Eda told me he loved farming so much that he moved out of the city and lived with her and her husband for awhile... but then she sent him back and now he has a wonderful life in the city."

"Then he probably doesn't even want the land," he murmured. "Most likely he has a family of his own and a good paying job in the city, so I very much doubt that he'll want to move his whole family here and leave his job just for a measly amount of land. There is not a single doubt in my mind that you will do much better with it, anyway."

"Thank you, Mistel," she whispered, but still sounded reluctant. "I couldn't of asked for a better friend."

"I'll always be here for you, please know that," Mistel whispered back, then kissed the top of her head. He took a moment to smell her hair; it smelt of some kind of berry, but he couldn't put his finger on the exact scent.

After a few moments he said, "Those are some lovely roses you have in your vase. May I ask where you got them? I heard they are quite hard to acquire."

"I found them on the ground right before the bridge... You got them for me, didn't you?" Beatrice muttered miserably.

"I did," he replied simply. "I hope you've been enjoying them."

"I have been," she soberly uttered. "I've awoken to the sight of them every morning, and they never cease to full me with joy. I just wish that all that awfulness never happened; everything would be so much different... If that stuff never happened and you had given them to me like you intended to then maybe things would have turned out like I wanted them to."

"Don't dwell upon the past, it can't be altered. Now all we can do is look forward to the future, and maybe one day soon things will turn out like you wanted it to... Like I wanted it to," Mistel murmured. "Now please, get some rest."

"I suppose I should," she said, letting out a little yawn. "You have no idea how much it means to me for you being here, laying next to me. I would never have been able to take a nap without your warmth to comfort me. Thank you, Mistel. You mean the world to me."

He felt his heart skip a beat. He meant the world to her? He had half a mind to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "So...do you enjoy the color purple?" he inquired with a smile.

"Hmm? Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I believe you just told me to get some rest, and it's kind of hard to fall asleep when you're asking me questions," Beatrice chuckled slightly.

"I just have a couple more, then you can nap!" Mistel giggled. "So? Do you enjoy the color?"

"I do," she replied simply. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason!" he nervously laughed, fingering the ring in his pocket once more. "I just noticed the color of your walls, is all, and was curious."

"Blue used to be my favorite color, but now I find myself enjoying purple much more," Beatrice said in a low tone.

"And why is that?" Mistel asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I, uh, would rather not say," Beatrice stammered. "It's sort of embarrassing."

"Now you _must_ tell me!" he laughed. "I won't stop bothering you until you do!"

" _Fine,_ " she resigned. "It's just... I really enjoy the color of your eyes, they're so beautiful. I would stare into them all day if you'd allow me..."

"Oh..." he trailed, feeling his heart beat so quickly he feared he might have a heart attack. "I rather enjoy the color of your eyes, as well. Once I look into them I find myself having a difficult time looking away."

"You do?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes, I do. I find them to be quite intriguing...They're very beautiful, they mesmerize me," he replied.

"I hope you're quite pleased with yourself, because now it feels like my face is on fire!" she emoted harshly, but he could feel her grinning against his chest.

He tilted his head slightly to see her face, which was stained a deep shade of red. He admired her flush for a moment then teasingly said, "Oh, I am. I've been nearly dying to see that adorable blush of yours all day."

She huffed and buried her face harder into his chest. After a couple of moments she asked, "Uh, Mistel, do you think you could do me a favor?"

"Anything for you," he lovingly replied.

"Do you think you could stand next to me during the memorial? And, uh, perhaps hold my hand?" Beatrice asked nervously.

"Of course!" Mistel chuckled softly. "I'd love nothing more than to hold your hand all day, every day. So that's not a problem in the slightest."

"Thank you," Beatrice said sleepily, letting out the cutest yawn he had ever heard. "I really appreciate it."

"No need to thank me, it would be my pleasure," he said frankly. "Now I think you should get some rest, I wouldn't want to have to nudge you to keep you awake during the memorial."

"Yes, yes," she sighed. "I'll see you soon."

"Sweet dreams, Beatrice. Rest well," he whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She tightened her arm around him and sighed deeply into his chest as he started to softly run his fingers up and down her back. A few moments later she began to snore softly while Mistel continued to caress her back.

Knowing how hard it was for her to fall asleep he relished in the way he made her so comforted that she was able to fall asleep so quickly with him next to her. He looked down at her sleeping face for a moment and smiled from ear to ear. She looked so beautiful, so angelic when she was sleeping. If she did accept his confession then he intended to marry her, and he could hardly wait for the day when he would have the pleasure to be able to watch her fall asleep every night.

His grin widened—if that was even possible—as he realized that he had made her smile and laugh on possibly one of the worst days of her life. He was certain that no one else would have been able to cheer her up like he had, and that made him feel a joy he had never experienced before. Although he was disappointed that he wasn't able to confess today, he knew there would be another opportunity to do so in the near future. He also knew that in waiting to confess that his chances of her accepting him would be more likely, as their bond seemed to deepen more and more with each passing day.

He let out a small sigh. He feared that Iris was worrying herself sick about him right now, she knew how much he hated the cold and would have returned home as soon as he was done confessing. Though knowing how quickly word spread throughout the small town—especially something so awful as the passing of Madam Eda—he figured that Iris must have known what had happened by now, and knew that he would have went to Beatrice to make sure she was okay.

After a couple of more minutes to make sure she was soundly asleep he said softly, "I may mean the world to you, but you, my love, _are_ my world. I love you more then you'll ever be able to comprehend. One day, hopefully soon, I'll tell you that. And if you accept my love, I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

She stirred slightly and his whole body tensed up, afraid that she wasn't soundly asleep as he had thought and she had heard him. A moment later she began to snore softly again, and he laid his head back down on the pillow and let out a large sigh of relief. He would have been _so_ very embarrassed if she had heard him.

He didn't intend to take a nap with her, but as he laid there staring at the ceiling he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He was also pretty exhausted from having to run up the mountain trail. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment, thinking that would suffice in ending his drowsiness, but before he even knew it he fell asleep with his world laying her head upon his chest.

[…]

Mistel awoke with a start, and jolted his head up as he heard two soft knocks on the door. The door slowly opened, even though no permission was given to open it, and Iris's head appeared from behind it. "After I heard what had happened, I knew you would be here," Iris said frankly.

"Shh!" Mistel quietly hissed. "You'll wake her up." He looked down at her and smiled at her sleeping face like a mother would to a newborn baby.

"I hope you haven't been staring at her while she's been sleeping," Iris said more quietly this time. "Because that's rather unsettling, brother. If she knew she would probably think it was so creepy and you'd have her running for the hills."

"I haven't," he nearly growled.

"You're lying," Iris said simply, grinning devilishly.

"And how would you know?" he retorted bitterly.

"For one, I've nearly raised you since birth—so I would think I should know when you're lying," Iris returned. "Also, your eyes. I can tell just by looking into them. Eyes are the window to the soul, you know?"

" _Fine,_ " he sighed with resign. "I _may_ have stared at her, but just for a few moments. I fell asleep myself, actually."

"Yes, I can tell," Iris said, her eyes drifting to his hair. "You should see yourself, your hair is a mess! Let me fix it for you."

She made a move to walk past the door and Mistel put a hand up, harshly saying, "I'm perfectly capable of fixing it myself, thank you very much."

"Yes, I suppose you are," Iris said a little sadly. "Anyway, I've come to tell you the memorial is going to start in about twenty minutes, so wake her up. I'm sure she'd like to freshen up beforehand."

"I will, thank you," Mistel said calmly.

"All right, then, I shall see you soon," Iris said as she began to walk backwards and close the door—but before she did she poked her head in and whispered, "Please make sure she is all right. She must be so awfully upset..."

"She's strong...but yes, I will make sure she is all right, and I've already told her I'll hold her hand during the whole thing," he whispered back.

Iris gave a slight nod and closed the door completely behind her. After a moment Mistel began to lovingly stroke her hair and whispered close to her face, "Beatrice, I'm afraid it's time to wake up now. The memorial is going to start shortly."

"Just five more minutes," she whined sleepily, scrunching up her nose.

"I'm sorry to say you don't have five more minutes," he giggled softly. "You must wake up now, I'm sure you would like to wash your face."

" _Ugh_ ," Beatrice groaned as she opened her eyes. She looked up at him and erupted into a fit of giggles. "Your hair is in a disarray!"

"I'm aware," he replied flatly with a frown.

"Here, let me fix it," she said, trying her best to stifle her giggles. She sat up on her knees and started to smooth out his blond locks. Mistel grinned to himself. He knew Iris would have a fit if he saw that he allowed Beatrice to fix his hair instead of her.

"Now you look much better!" she exclaimed, beaming at him.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same about you," Mistel chuckled dryly. "You don't have much time, so you better go into your bathroom and freshen up."

"Oh, right," she muttered miserably as she scooted off her bed and stood.

"Don't worry, I'll be with you the entire time. I won't leave your side for a second," he assured her.

"Thank you," she whispered, her cheeks turning a pink hue. She quickly ran into her bathroom and out of his sight.

He let out a loud sigh of relief once she was gone. He scooted over to the side of her bed and pulled on his boots. He _really_ didn't want to go to this memorial. Everyone would probably be crying and he would just be standing there, just waiting for it to be over. He would make sure to stand in the back—Beatrice probably would prefer that, anyway—so the townspeople wouldn't judge him for being so nonchalant about the whole thing.

He had only ever been to two burials before, his parents'—which he didn't remember since he was barely four—and his grandparents', which he hardly remembered since he was only eight when they passed. He could hardly remember what his mother and father even looked like, but had seen photographs. Iris was the spitting image of his mother, and he looked much more like her than he did his father. Iris would sometimes say it pained her to look at him sometimes because of it, but that was only when she was drunk and she only ever drank excessively with Klaus and when their parents' death anniversary was near. He winced, realizing that it was only a few weeks away now that it was Winter. _Wonderful,_ he thought sarcastically, _I'll have to stay up with her all night to make sure she doesn't choke on her vomit in her sleep_.

Beatrice emerged from her bathroom, breaking him out of his thoughts. She looked much better now, her face no longer red and splotchy and her hair smoothed out and pulled back into its usual long ponytail. He wondered how long it exactly was—since he had never seen it down before—but quickly banished that thought. Today was not the day to ponder about how radiant she would look with her hair down.

Beatrice gave him a coy smile and asked, "Better?"

"Much better," he said, returning her smile. "Are you ready now?"

"As ready as I'm ever going to be," she muttered under her breath.

"It is not as bad as you think it's going to be," he said frankly, standing up. "It will be over before you even know it."

He offered her his hand and she took it, and he felt as if he was pulling her to the door rather than her walking beside him. Once they were out of his house he noticed they were the last to arrive; everyone was already standing around a grave stone which was on top of freshly patted down earth.

Mistel walked toward them with Beatrice reluctantly trailing behind him. As soon as Veronica saw them she gestured for Beatrice to come stand next to her. Beatrice looked mortified and quickly shook her head. Veronica sighed but didn't prod any further—to both his and her relief.

After a moment Veronica's face turned sullen, and she looked to the side as she said mournfully, "Everyone... Earlier today, Madam Eda, who for decades has given her all to help this town prosper, passed into her final rest."

Veronica looked up, her face no longer sullen. It wasn't her usual business expression, but rather one of anger, or perhaps stupefaction. He wasn't sure what to make of it. She nearly shouted, "Allow me, now, to make an announcement. In accordance with her wishes, Madam Eda's farm will be passed on to Bee. She asked this of me in her final minutes, as a last request. She said she wanted to entrust the land she had built up for so many years to the next generation of promising farmers."

Everyone looked to Beatrice for a moment and her face turned bright crimson. Veronica's face regained its usual business-like expression as she said, "She may be gone from our midst now, but I believe she is watching over us from up above. Let us never forget to look out for one another and be good to one other, so that a part of Madam Eda will always live on in this town."

Mistel looked down to Beatrice to see that she was slowly nodding her head at Veronica's words, and that she was crying silently. He felt his heart clench and gave her hand a small squeeze. Veronica's face turned sullen again and she sighed, "Now, let us join in prayer in thanks for Madam Eda's life, and that she may rest in peace."

Everyone bowed their heads for a moment, except Mistel, and he watched as they said their silent prayers. After they were done everyone scattered and walked toward the mountain trail, save for Iris, Mistel, and Beatrice. Iris walked over to them and asked Beatrice in a low tone, "Oh dear, how awful that must have been for you. How are you doing?" Mistel was surprised to see that even Iris was crying slightly. He recalled her telling him that burials always made her think of their parents', subsequently making her upset.

"I'll be okay," Beatrice choked, a small sob racking through her body.

"I don't think you will be," Iris retorted sternly. "Stay with me and Mistel tonight, we'll take care of you."

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that. That's too much," Beatrice returned.

"I insist," Iris said softly. "Now, come on, it's freezing and I would rather not have to stand in the cold for longer than I have to."

"Alright, then. Just allow me to grab a few things before we're off," Beatrice said, walking away and into her house.

Once she was out of sight Mistel crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Iris. He hissed through clenched teeth, "Seriously, Iris? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Seriously, brother?" Iris returned bitterly. "How could I leave her in such a state all alone for the rest of the night? It would be rude."

He looked away and sighed, "I suppose you are correct. I wouldn't want her to be sad and alone all night, either."

Beatrice suddenly appeared with her rucksack over her shoulder, making them both jump slightly, and said, "You two aren't fighting, are you?"

"Of course not, dear!" Iris chirped. "We were just discussing something foolish. Shall we be off?"

Beatrice gave a slight nod and Iris linked her arm with hers, and they began their long walk toward their home. He scowled at them and had half a mind to say, _I believe she wanted me to hold her hand all day, sister,_ but resigned to just thinking it instead. He ran to catch up with them and softly grabbed Beatrice's free hand. She looked up at him for a moment and smiled sweetly, subsequently making his heart flutter.

Iris talked about the novel she was working on the whole way to their house, but neither Beatrice or him said a word. Beatrice would nod every once in awhile and seemed to be listening, but he knew her better than that. She was mourning, and as much as Iris was trying to distract her with her favorite subject—a new novel—he knew Iris wouldn't be able to cheer her up. He doubted he would even be able to cheer her up at this point.

As soon as they walked into their home Mistel shut the door behind them, and Iris exclaimed, "I'm so very glad to be out of that dreadful cold! I hardly like to leave the house at all, especially when it's freezing!"

"Agreed," Mistel muttered, still holding Beatrice's hand.

"Well, I'm rather exhausted after all that crying and walking, so I'm going upstairs to change and sleep," Iris said, then turned to Beatrice and asked, "Would you care to join me? You can get changed in my room with me."

Beatrice's cheeks turned pink and she squeaked, "But you would see me naked!"

"Dear, I've already seen you naked! Don't you remember?" Iris laughed loudly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, right," Beatrice uttered.

"Besides, it will only be us ladies. There's no need to be shy about your body in front of me," Iris said simply, grabbing her hand. Mistel held tightly onto Beatrice's, not yet wanting to let go, and followed them up the stairs.

"You're going to have to let go now, brother," Iris said sternly as they approached her bedroom door.

He gave Beatrice's hand a small squeeze before reluctantly letting go. She gave him a feigned smile as she said, "I'll see you shortly. You better get changed into your pajamas, as well. I'm sure you must be quite tired."

He gave a slight nod and watched as Iris and Beatrice strolled into Iris's room, the door being quickly shut behind them. He wasn't tired in the slightest. After all, he hadn't cried and he had taken a nap. He looked to his grandfather clock and noticed it was barely nine. He was surprised that Iris wanted to go to bed so early; she usually stayed up until at least one in the morning writing. Then again, Iris never walked up and down the mountain trail and crying always made her tired.

He went into his bedroom and quickly changed into his pajamas. He sat down on his bed as he waited for Iris and Beatrice to finish changing, tapping his foot upon the floor impatiently. He heard Iris exclaim, "My goodness, Beatrice! Your body is exquisite. You're very curvaceous, I'm surprised that such a small women has so many curves. And your breasts are perfect! So perky and round, I'm a little jealous. I'm afraid gravity has done its job on mine."

Mistel felt his whole body heat up in a strange mixture of anger, embarrassment, and arousal. Iris was saying these things on purpose—he was sure of it. She knew he could hear her. _Mischievous as always, sister_. He began to think of all the ways he could get back at her for doing this to him, and grinned wickedly. It would have to do with something with Klaus, since Iris was doing this to him with his potential lover, and his grin widened as an idea popped into his head.

He was broken out of his thoughts when he heard Beatrice sputter, "T-thank you, Iris, but please don't say such things about yourself. Your breasts are lovely, I wish mine were that big. Klaus is a lucky man."

Mistel nearly gagged. _Ew, gross._ The last thing he wanted to hear was Beatrice complimenting his sister's breasts.

"Klaus _was_ a lucky man," he heard Iris say in distaste. "He's in the doghouse right now. He won't be getting any of _this_ for quite some time. I'm not sure yet how long I'm going to keep him waiting, because I have quite a strong sexual appetite, as well, but at least for a week."

Mistel really did gag this time. He knew all too well about Iris and Klaus's sexual appetites. Many nights he had to put his hands over his ears so he wouldn't hear them crying out each other's names. _Why can't they just do that at his house?_ If Klaus didn't confess to her soon he was going to punch him square in the nose, even if he was ten inches taller than him. _I'll just pull him down by that pretentious cravat he wears and do it—and I know he wouldn't dare try to fight me back. Iris would surely leave him for good if he did_.

"Maybe you should wait until he gives you a ring," he heard Beatrice say timidly.

"Maybe I should, Bee. You're very intelligent, I'm positive you're going to make my brother a very happy man one day," he heard Iris say as the door opened.

Mistel abruptly stood and clenched his hands at his sides so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his face flare in embarrassment and thought, _How dare she?_

"Your brother?" Beatrice squeaked as Iris and her went over to their dining area and stood.

"Do we really need to have this conversation again? I thought you were smitten with him, but now I'm sure you love him. He makes you weak in the knees and fills your stomach with butterflies, does he not?" Iris asked, raising an eyebrow.

Before Beatrice could answer he hastily ran out of his bedroom and stood in front of Iris, glaring up at her as his face twisted into a scowl. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Beatrice was only wearing a blue nightshirt that barely came down to her knees. _Why isn't she wearing pajama pants? She's going to be freezing._ Iris was wearing her usual long silken purple nightgown, and she narrowed her eyes slightly by the look he was giving her.

Mistel harshly said to Iris, " _Comment osez-vous, ma sœur? Elle sait déjà trop sur mes sentiments. Maintenant, vous avez tout gâché!_ " He chose to speak in french, since he very much doubted Beatrice knew how to speak it, and wanted their conversation to be private.

Iris returned simply, " _Je voulais juste aider, frère. Je pensais que vous ne pourriez jamais avouer vos sentiments."_

He looked to Beatrice for a moment and she cocked her head to the side, asking, "Are you two speaking french?"

"Yes, it's something we learned while living in Rose Country with our grandparents. If we hadn't learned it we would have been quite out of place," Iris said frankly.

Mistel turned his attention back to Iris and emoted, " _J'attendais le bon moment! Évidemment, n'était pas aujourd'hui approprié. Vous gêné je! Je vous déteste presque en ce moment."_

Iris sighed loudly, " _Vous pourriez ne jamais me détester, frère. Dites juste que 'je t'aime' et nous cesserons de parler en français."_

He nearly shouted back, " _Non! S'il vous plaît cesser d'interférer. Je vais parler à Béatrice quand il est approprié. Cette conversation est terminée._ "

"I was about to say the same thing. This conversation is over, and I am exhausted," Iris returned. She turned to Beatrice and kissed her on both of her cheeks, then said, " _Bonne nuit, Beatrice. Mon frère est en amour avec vous."_

Mistel felt his blood begin to boil and thanked the goddess that Beatrice didn't know how to speak french. _I cannot believe she just said 'my brother is in love with you'._ Iris turned to him and said, "Goodnight, brother. Don't stay up too late, and _vous savez où je garde les préservatifs._ If it's needed, of course." She gave him a small wink before casually strolling into her room and shutting the door.

"They won't be needed, sister! You can be so crude sometimes!" he called after her, and he heard her laugh loudly.

He huffed and looked to Beatrice, who had the most curious look upon her face. She asked, "What in the world were you two talking about?"

"Pretty much just about how she needs to mind her own business," Mistel replied flatly. "Are you tired? Or would you like to play a game of chess?"

Beatrice yawned and said, "I think I'd like to go to bed now, and next time we play any games I'd like to play darts."

"Darts it is, then," he said with a mischievous smirk. _Perhaps she's good at darts? Surely better than she is at chess._ "Which side of the bed do you prefer?"

"Which side of the bed?" she asked in befuddlement. "I think I'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight, but thank you for the offer."

He felt his eye twitch. "Why don't you want to sleep next to me?" he snapped. "Don't you trust me?"

Her ruby eyes widened in shock and she hastily said, "Of course I trust you, I just thought the sofa would be more appropriate."

"If that is what you wish, Beatrice," he attempted to say calmly, but there was a hint of scorn in his tone. He went into his bottom drawer and took out a small blanket, then turned around and picked up a spare pillow from his bed. He handed them to her and said disdainfully, "Goodnight, Beatrice." Then abruptly shut his bedroom door in her face.

He wasn't sure why he felt so angry. He knew it had something to do with him not being able to confess, then Iris teasing him and blithely telling Beatrice that he was in love with her, and to top it off Beatrice not wanting to sleep next to him. All those things mixed together made him feel enraged, and he roughly pulled on his blond locks as he paced back and forth for a good five minutes.

He finally settled down and took several deep breaths to calm himself—which was in vain, because he still felt angry despite his best efforts to stop. He reluctantly crawled into his bed and pulled his blankets around himself. He didn't know what else to do but to try to sleep. He tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, for at least twenty minutes. He started when he heard two soft knocks on his door. He sighed heavily and said, "Come in."

The door slowly opened and he looked over to see Beatrice standing there, her borrowed pillow and blanket in one hand while she rubbed her eye with her other, looking like a small child. "I'm freezing," she said softly.

"Then you should have worn pajama pants," he retorted.

"Can I sleep with you?" she asked uncertainly, looking to the floor.

"Why don't you sleep with Iris if you're so cold?" he said bitterly.

"Because she's already sleeping soundly, and I know she won't let me put my cold feet and hands on her," Beatrice replied, looking back into his eyes and making his heart skip a beat.

"And what makes you think I'll allow you to do that?"

"I just know you will," she whispered, barely audible.

" _Fine_ ," Mistel scoffed, lifting the blanket slightly. "Come on, get in."

She smiled sweetly and crawled into bed next to him, putting the pillow down on his bed and letting the blanket she was holding drop to the floor. She pulled his purple bedspread around herself and rested her head on his chest, then entwined her legs with his.

With that Mistel felt all his anger disappear. He was shocked that just by her being so close to him made all his rage vanish, it was hard for him to comprehend. He jumped slightly when he felt her hand slither its way up his nightshirt, resting upon his stomach. He emoted, "Beatrice, your hands are freezing! Are you cold blooded?" _And what in the world do you think you're doing, putting your hand up my shirt? Is your intent to give me a heart attack?_

She gave a shy giggle and said, "No, I don't think so. My body temperature has always been so cold, and you're so warm—so we fit together perfectly."

His heart rate accelerated by her words. He really wished she didn't have such an effect on him. "Please warn me next time you do such a thing, you nearly made me jump right out of my skin!" he chided.

"I'm sorry... Goodnight, Mistel," she said, then yawned. _What? No darling this time?_ He frowned.

"Goodnight, Beatrice," he replied, and inhaled in her scent. _Ah! Her hair smells like strawberries, I knew it was some kind of berry._ It was an intoxicating aroma, and he felt himself feeling slightly woozy by the scent.

Mistel stared up at the ceiling while he waited for her to fall asleep. Although his heart was beating rapidly in his chest, he felt much more comfortable with her wrapped around him. He didn't understand it, and he feared he never would. How could someone make him feel comfortable yet at the same time make his heart beat so quickly? It was a strange notion, one that he couldn't wrap his head around.

Within five minutes Beatrice began to snore softly, and Mistel felt his eyelids grow heavy. He always found himself having a hard time getting comfortable and falling asleep, but with her he didn't have that problem. He found it strange, but it wasn't bothersome. It was soothing, relaxing, even. The only thing that bothered him was that she didn't call him darling like she had before. _Perhaps it was just the wine speaking_.

Mistel closed his eyes, and for the first time in many years he fell asleep before eleven o'clock. The last thought that ran through his head was, _Que dans le monde est cette femme me fais ?_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I don't have much to say about this chapter, accept that I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it. And I believe it's a chapter a lot of you have been waiting for. ^.^ Please leave a review if you enjoyed it!_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Beatrice woke up and heavily sighed. She wasn't feeling like her self of late. Ever since the series of unfortunate events took place she felt sorrowful and depressed, and she longed for her spunky attitude and cheerful nature to return. She was beginning to feel like she was losing herself, lost in a deep abyss she couldn't crawl out of.

She looked over to her bedside table and smiled. _Perhaps he can help me find myself again._ The yellow roses were beginning to wilt, though, and she felt as if she was wilting with them. She missed Mistel: his smile, his violet eyes, his teasing; she had never missed anyone so much in her entire life. The past week all she could bring herself to do were her farm chores, then she would go back into her home and reread her favorite book for the hundredth time until she fell asleep.

After changing and brushing out her long chocolate colored hair and pulling it back into a ponytail she walked outside, and was relieved that it wasn't snowing today. She opened her mailbox, expecting there to just be a letter from one of the vendors telling her that they had new items in stock, and was shocked to see there was a letter from Klaus. She rolled her eyes then began to read.

 _Dear Bee,_

 _I hope all is well. The townspeople have began to worry about you._

 _It has been nearly over a week since anyone last saw you, are_

 _you all right? If you are free I would like to have coffee with you_

 _today, if that is of convenience_ _to you, of course. If not I need to_

 _speak to you soon, so please come by my home around ten_

 _whenever you are free. We all miss you and are terribly_

 _worried about you. Please do come by as soon as possible._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Klaus_

Beatrice sighed again and shook her head. Of course everyone was worried about her, she always visited them everyday to chat and present them with a gift. She felt sick to her stomach thinking about how much Mistel must have been worrying about her. _Or perhaps he isn't worrying about me at all; perhaps he has moved on—as he should after what I've put him through._ She felt her heart clench at the thought. He had been so kind to her when Madam Eda passed. If she was unsure of her feelings before that she was positive of them now.

Iris was right, he did fill her stomach with butterflies and made her weak in the knees. She wished she knew how to speak french; she wanted so badly to know what they had been saying. She caught a few words here and there. She had heard her name and knew how to say "I love you" in french, but that was all. The rest she had just used context clues to understand their conversation.

Mistel had been angry with Iris for pretty much telling her that he was in love with her, but she already knew that, so why Mistel had been so enraged was hard for her to comprehend. She had been pretty shocked when Mistel sounded so bitter when she wanted to sleep on the sofa. She just didn't want Klaus to scold her again and thought it would be inappropriate to sleep in bed next to him once more. She was relieved when he allowed her to sleep next to him after refusing his proposal before. She just couldn't get comfortable on the sofa, and really wanted his warmth to comfort her in her sleep.

It had worked, and very well. Though when she had awoken she felt embarrassed, and quickly changed into her farming dress and left. Mistel seemed very upset that she hadn't stayed for breakfast, but she just couldn't get herself to stay. She was embarrassed by how she acted when sleeping next to him; entwining her legs with his and putting her hand up his shirt. _Why in the world did I do that?_ She knew why she had done it, and it wasn't because she wanted to warm up her hands. She wanted to feel how soft his skin was and wanted to be as close to him as possible.

It was a mistake, though, and in the morning made her cheeks flare thinking about what she had done. They weren't lovers yet, and she had almost given him a heart attack; she could feel his heart rate accelerate by the contact. She usually wasn't so timid when it came to such things but with him...it felt different. Only he had this effect on her. She wondered wistfully if she had such an effect on him. She had only ever seen him blush a handful of times, but thought perhaps that blushing wasn't his way of showing embarrassment or being uncomfortable—she had a feeling it was his heart that showed such things, since it always beat so rapidly whenever they touched.

Beatrice looked down at her watch and gasped, realizing she had slept in again—it was nearly eight o'clock! She didn't want to worry anyone any further, so she would make sure to see Klaus today, then afterward she would visit Mistel. She couldn't very well just see Klaus without visiting Mistel as well. He would surely hear about it and she knew it would upset him, and she never wanted to upset him again.

She quickly took care of her animals, feeding and brushing them hastily; milking her cows and shearing her sheep, then collecting the eggs her chickens had laid for her. She would water her crops later, she needed to get to Klaus's house by ten.

Standing outside her barn, she whistled for her horse, Edgar, and he eagerly galloped over to her. She pat his mane for a second before mounting him, then gave him a small kick. Edgar galloped faster off her property and they quickly made their way down the mountain trail, and she soon found herself out front of Klaus's home.

She dismounted Edgar and took a deep breath. She wasn't exactly sure what Klaus wanted to speak to her about, but she knew the conversation wasn't going to be all pleasant. She pulled her ponytail around her shoulder and nervously ran her hands through her silken strands. After a moment she knocked two times on Klaus's door and heard him say flatly, "Come in."

Beatrice slowly opened the door and shut it behind her, then quietly approached Klaus, who was sitting at his work station.

He turned his head slightly and said in a low tone, "Please take a seat on the sofa, I'll be with you momentarily."

She nearly gasped at the sight of him. He looked awful: his face gaunt with dark bags under his eyes—as if he hasn't slept much in the past few days—his face unshaven, and his normally disheveled ebony locks even more in a disarray than usual.

Beatrice walked over to his dining area, not in a skipping mood today, and carefully tucked her dress underneath her as she sat. She twiddled her thumbs as she waited for Klaus to finish with his work. She began to ponder about why he looked so awful. She knew it had little to do with him worrying about her. Although he thought of her as a little sister she knew he wouldn't look so awful just over worrying about her. It must have been about him and Iris fighting—she just didn't understand why he couldn't commit to her. If he just confessed his true feelings then they wouldn't have to have this problem.

She gave a slight jump when Klaus appeared from his bedroom. He didn't even look at her as he went over to his kitchen and made coffee. He turned his head slightly and asked, "Would you like some?"

"Tea, if you have it. I don't really care for coffee all that much."

Klaus gave a slight nod and put his kettle on the stove, igniting the burner. Klaus stood there, waiting, instead of coming back to talk to her while the coffee and tea were being made. He was really in an awful place right now.

After about five minutes Klaus walked over with a tray in hand that had a teacup and a mug on it, putting the tray on the dining table and sitting down opposite of her. He narrowed his eyes slightly and said, "Beatrice, I heard you slept next to Mistel again last week. As you very well know I think of you as a younger sister, and I intend to look out for you. You have quite a lot of siblings, correct?"

She rolled her ruby eyes. He only ever called her Beatrice when he was angry with her. She took a sip of her tea—English breakfast, her favorite—and said simply, "Yes, I have three brothers and two sisters, me being the youngest—and please do not call me Beatrice in front of Mistel, he would have a fit."

"Then I will look after you for them since they are not here. Why did you sleep next to him again? You're so young, so naïve. He could have touched you while you were sleeping," Klaus said in distaste.

Beatrice laughed loudly. "If anything you should be worried about _me_ touching _him_ while he slept. I may be young and naïve, but I'm not as virtuous as you think I am."

"Explain," Klaus nearly growled.

She felt her cheeks turn red. If he really wanted to know about her past boyfriends then she would tell him, and she had no doubt she would embarrass him by what she was about to say. She felt her lips twitch into a crooked smile and said boldly, "I had two boyfriends before coming here. I didn't love either of them, they were fools but they were handsome, and my raging teenage hormones wanted them. We didn't talk much because they never had anything interesting to say. They approached me, but don't get the wrong idea, I was in control. They were quite smitten with me, especially the last one. I think he may have loved me, but I can't be sure. I would sneak them into my bedroom at night and have my way with them.

"You look so shocked! Yes, _I_ had my way with _them_ , not the other way around. Once I was done with them I would throw them to the curb. The first one was awful in bed, we didn't see each other for very long. The second one was a little better, so I stayed with him a little longer. I do regret now having sex with them, I should have waited until I was in love, but I suppose the past cannot be changed. Yet I have changed... I still have raging hormones, but I have them in check now—except for my one slip-up with Fritz, which I still feel so awful about. I no longer want to sleep with boys and throw them to the side once I get bored of them. I want to be in love, and I want to be loved back. I want romance and dates and sweet kisses under the stars.

"You should see the look on your face right now! What, were you expecting me to be a virgin?" She quirked an eyebrow and gave a shy giggle. Klaus looked absolutely shocked, as if his head might explode.

"Beatrice!" Klaus exclaimed, his whole face turning bright scarlet. "So behind that innocent face lies a seductress?"

"Not anymore, Klaus. I've changed. Like I said, I want to be in love and I want to be loved back—and if I start dating anyone I won't sleep with them right away, even if every cell in my body is telling me to. I want a sweet courtship, not a lustful one," she replied.

"I'm glad to hear you have changed your ways. One of the reasons I wanted to speak to you about has to do with Mistel—Iris insisted I have this talk with you," he said, sighing loudly. "She wanted to make sure you weren't going to 'have your way with him and throw him to the curb'—as you put it. I suppose she suspected that you weren't as virtuous as you look."

"I would never do that to Mistel! I—I...," she trailed, feeling her whole face heat up.

"You love him," Klaus said frankly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I do," Beatrice said softly. "I love him so much it hurts... I'm just so scared. I'm scared I'll get hurt or hurt him..."

"With love there are always risks, Bee, but if you love him so much it's worth it. Trust me about that," Klaus said a little mournfully.

She sighed. He was right. She had read enough love stories to know the risks that being in love brings, and by the way Klaus looked she knew he was feeling the risks that came with love. "Klaus..." she said hesitatingly. "You look downright awful, as if you haven't slept in days. What's going on with you and Iris?"

"We're fighting..." he returned in a low tone.

"About what?" Beatrice asked, cocking her head to the side.

"She wants me to commit to her, but I don't think I can do that."

"Why not?" she snapped, furrowing her brows as she glared at him.

"I, too, have regrets. I did awful things when I was in my early twenties, and I fear she will no longer love me if she knew what I have done," Klaus said sadly, hanging his head.

"You never know until you tell her. She loves you, surely she will forgive you for your past mistakes," Beatrice said in a soothing tone. "You do love her too, right?"

"Yes, I love her more than anyone I've ever been with before. How can I not? She's so beautiful, so intelligent. She makes me laugh on even the worst of days," Klaus said, his golden eyes sparkling. "Are you sure she will forgive me for my past mistakes? I cannot bear the thought of her leaving me because of them, which is why I am so reluctant to commit to her fully."

"She'll forgive you, I'm sure of it," Beatrice said with a smile. "She may be a little angry with you, but like I said, you can't change the past. She knows that."

"Thank you, Bee. Now I have a lot to think about..."

"I must be going now," Beatrice said as she stood, "but think long and hard. Take a couple of weeks if you need to, just don't break her heart. I fear Mistel will pick a fight with you if you do."

Klaus gave a feigned smile and said, "I'm sure he would."

"I shall see you later, Klaus. Farewell," Beatrice called as she walked to his door. She looked over her shoulder and said, "When you're ready, bring silver and a pink diamond to my house—I'll help you craft her a ring. Pink diamonds are Iris's favorite gem, you know?"

Klaus laughed, a good genuine laugh. He was starting to look a little better. "I didn't know that, but thank you for telling me—I'll make sure to do that when the time is right. Good-bye, Bee."

She gave a quick wave before leaving his home. Her conversation with Klaus put her in a better mood, and she skipped over to the antique shop with Edgar trailing close behind her. As soon as she reached the door a lump formed in her throat, and she began to tremble to the very ends of her fingertips. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, then tentatively knocked on the door two times.

Beatrice slowly opened the door and walked past the threshold, closing the door behind her. When she turned around she was slightly shocked to see Mistel standing in front of his counter; his arms causally behind his back as usual, but this time they were concealing something.

"Hello, Beatrice," Mistel said cheerfully, beaming at her, "What is it? Have you come to see me? Or could you somehow tell that I have something I want to discuss with you?"

Before she even knew what she was doing she sprang herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing every inch of his face except his lips. She quickly released him and took a step back, her cheeks flushing. She said timidly, "I've missed you..."

The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, as if there was an electric current running throughout the room—she could nearly feel it in her veins. He stared at her in silent stupor for a few moments, his violet eyes widening while he gaped at her. He shook his head and emoted, "I can tell! I have missed you dearly, as well. You must've been quite busy with your new land...and I'm sure you needed time to mourn, otherwise I would have came to see you. How are you feeling as of late? You dashed away so quickly last week I didn't have time to ask how you were feeling."

"To be honest, I was rather upset... I couldn't leave my farm," she trailed, hanging her head. She looked back up at him and smiled sweetly, feeling a spark as their eyes met. "Now that I've seen you, I'm feeling much better."

"Wonderful," he said, beaming at her again. "I'm happy that I have that effect on you."

Beatrice felt her blush deepen, and said teasingly, "I believe you said you have something you wish to discuss with me?"

"Oh, erm, yes," Mistel said, shuffling his feet and looking to the floor for a moment. When he looked back up at her his face regained its usual demure expression. He said earnestly, "Yes, there is something very important I would like to talk about. Here isn't the most appropriate of places, however. Let's go somewhere else. Please, come with me." He gave her a crooked smile and said, "But first I would like to give you these."

With one quick movement he brought one hand from behind his back revealing what he was concealing: a bouquet of yellow roses. Beatrice gasped and put a hand over mouth. "Are you sure? How did you get them again? They must have cost a fortune!"

"What am I to do with these? I bought them for you, after all," Mistel returned with a mischievous smirk, but she noticed his hand trembled around the bouquet. "Giorgio had some left over from fall, so I bought the rest from him. Money is of no object to me, Beatrice," he added.

"I-if you insist," she stammered, blushing scarlet. Mistel took a long stride toward her, closing the space between them, and handed her the bouquet. The electric current seemed to intensify by his closeness, sizzling and sparking around them. She idly wondered if he could feel it too. She put the roses up to her nose and inhaled deeply. The smell was her third favorite scent, her second being old books, and her first being herb tea mixed with the scent of old books—the intoxicating aroma of Mistel. "Thank you, Mistel. The other ones were beginning to wilt. It was very kind of you to do that for me, but then again you are always so kind to me."

"Let's be off, shall we?" Mistel attempted to say frankly, but his voice quivered slightly.

He offered her his hand and she took it with her free hand, immediately linking her fingers with his. Mistel eagerly pulled her out the door and toward the eastern steps, and she wondered, "What would you like to talk to me about?"

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a lopsided smile, frankly saying, "Patience, Beatrice. We'll be there in only a moment."

She shook her head in confusion but continued to allow him to pull her nonetheless. _What is so important that he can't speak to me about it in his own home?_ She began to feel nervous, and wished she had an extra arm so she could run her hands through her hair—a nervous habit she had picked up when she was barely eight.

Mistel led her to the Piedmont area and kept pulling her until they were in the middle of the bridge. He let go of her hand and took a step back. She instantly pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and started to frantically run her free hand through her chocolate colored hair. She felt her heart rate accelerate as she waited for him to speak.

Mistel firmly clasped his hands behind his back, then let out a little sigh. He closed his eyes with a ghost of a smile on his lips and said simply, "Beating around the bush will just lead to misunderstandings, so let me be direct." He opened his violet eyes and his met her ruby ones with a noticeable spark, one she was certain he could feel despite his neutral expression. He blinked a few times then said matter-of-factly, "Beatrice, I am in love with you."

Beatrice gasped loudly, releasing her hand from her hair and holding the bouquet with both hands close to her chest. _So this is why he wanted to speak to me here?_

He blinked a few more times and continued on in his demure tone, "I don't think I could stand seeing you date someone else. I can barely tolerate even the thought of it!" He winced for a split second, as if recalling the memory in which he saw her and Fritz together. "So...would you go out with me? Please, allow me the privilege of keeping you to myself."

Beatrice looked around frantically, her head spinning with emotions she wasn't sure what to do with. She loved him, yes, but she didn't want to hurt him—and she just knew she would eventually. "Mistel... I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down at the bridge for a second.

Mistel averted his eyes and pouted slightly, looking so sad it nearly broke her heart. He said solemnly, "Oh... I see."

Beatrice felt tears well up in her eyes and nearly started to sob; how could she explain to him that she loved him too much to date him, that she just knew she would break his heart?"

Mistel quickly composed himself and smiled at her so brightly she felt her heart skip a beat. "No, no, it's all right! Please don't give me that sad look. You are so much more beautiful when you smile.

"I'm sorry for springing such an awkward subject on you so suddenly. Please just forget this whole conversation ever happened," he attempted to say simply, but she could hear the pain in his voice. His face regained it's neutral expression and he said a little lamentably, "Now then, if you will pardon me, I must be going. Good-bye, Beatrice."

She felt as if her whole world was crashing down around her. He made a move to walk off the bridge and she nearly shouted, "No, wait!"

His eyes widened as he said a little bitterly, "What is it, Beatrice? I must get back to the shop now."

"I—I never said I didn't love you, I only said I was sorry," she murmured. "I am in love with you. I love you so much it hurts. _I_ cannot bear the thought of you being with another!"

"Then what is all this fuss about?" he asked, slightly angered.

"I'm just scared that I'll hurt you again," Beatrice said sorrowfully.

"Goodness, don't be ridiculous!" Mistel laughed, and it was like music to her ears. "There are always risks, Beatrice, but if you truly love me then don't let them get in between us."

"You're correct, as always," she sighed. "I truly do love you."

Mistel grinned so large she feared he might split his face. "You do realize that, by saying you truly love me, you agree to become mine. And in return, I will become yours. You were, I assume, aware of that before you stopped me from walking off this bridge and confessing your true feelings for me, no?"

Beatrice quickly nodded her head.

Mistel beamed again and giggled, "...I see. Well, as long as you're aware of the 'fine print', so to speak, then I've no reason in the world to deny our love for each other. Though I must admit, I had no intention of humoring any notions you may have had to reconsider."

 _Fine print? What in the world is that suppose to mean?_ "Fine print?!" Beatrice hissed through clenched teeth, holding onto the bouquet for dear life, "What do you mean by ' _fine print?'_ That sounds as if you'd like to tie me up! Do I have to sign a contract or something?!"

Mistel looked to the bridge while his face turned bright red in embarrassed, shuffling his feet while he said, "I did not mean it like that, Beatrice. I only meant that by agreeing to become mine that you are mine and mine alone, and that I am yours and yours alone. And that... I intend to marry you one day."

"O-oh," she sighed in relief, then felt her own cheeks flare in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, the way you said it it sounded...very strange. My apologies." She felt her lips twitch up into a mischievous smirk and added, "By the way, if anyone is getting tied up it will be you."

Mistel looked back into her eyes, his flush fading, and waved her off with a gesture of his hand. "A simple misunderstanding, please do not apologize for that." He gave her a mischievous smirk back and said softly,"I'd like that." _'I'd like that?' Is he being serious?_ She nearly blushed even thinking about him in such a way. After a moment and an electrifying prolonged gaze Mistel said, "Can I hear it once more, though? You do love me?"

"Yes, Mistel, I am deeply, painfully in love with you," Beatrice reassured him in a low tone, involuntarily fluttering her lush lashes at him.

Mistel smiled, and his usual calculating eyes warmed, his whole face softening; the most adorable blush adorning his face while his entire body seemed to relax. He lovingly said, "Thank you, Beatrice. I promise I will treat you more preciously than anyone...or anything in the world."

She nearly melted under his loving gaze, and he pulled a ring out of his pocket; holding it out and presenting it to her. "I hope you like it," he said a bit hesitatingly. "I wasn't sure which gem to pick, so I just picked an amethyst on a whim; hence the violet ring."

Beatrice held the bouquet in one hand and held out her dainty hand, hoping the ring was small enough to fit around her tiny finger. Mistel slid the ring onto her finger and sighed in relief; apparently he was having the same doubts about it fitting. "So this is why your hands were injured?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded his head and smiled. "So, do you like it?"

"Like it?! I love it!" Beatrice gushed, moving her hand to and fro to see the gem sparkle. "It's dazzling, just like your eyes. It will be like carrying around with me a little part of you everywhere I go."

Mistel beamed so brightly it put the sun to shame, looking quite pleased with himself. He said mirthfully, "We are hereby officially lovers. I will never let you go now, even if you want me to. That, my dear, is how this works." She felt her heart skip not one, but two beats by his words, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. _How many times is he going to make me blush today?_

"Ah, I know! As this is a special occasion, perhaps we should give each other new nicknames. I'm sure that will help the reality of this wonderful new arrangement sink in all the faster," Mistel said with the bright smile still plastered on his face. "What would you like me to call you? Have you anything in particular in mind?"

"Well, since you're the only one who calls me Beatrice, why don't we keep it the same as always?"

Mistel giggled and said, "You're right, we have always shared that little intimacy. So I will continue to call you Beatrice, and if I hear any of the other boys in town calling you that I will have to remind them that is what I call you, and that it is my lover's name for you. Now what are you to call me?"

"I... I don't know. What would you like for me to call you?" she asked timidly, giving him a coy smile.

"Well when you were intoxicated that one night you called me darling, and I very much liked that; so how does that sound?" he asked with a wolfish grin.

"Darling it is then, darling," Beatrice giggled, feeling rather giddy.

"Goodness, I must admit, using our lovers' names deliberately like this does feel a bit...ticklish. But I can't deny it's a good feeling," Mistel said softly, his violet eyes piercing into hers. He looked away and pouted again, soberly saying, "Oh, drat! Look at the time. There are duties I must attend to, I'm afraid." He looked back into her eyes, a mischievous smirk adorning his face as he said, "I'd much rather stay with you right now, but...such is life. I will see you later, Beatrice!"

She heard him say under his breath, "So one game has ended, and another has begun." She had no idea what those words meant to him, so she chose to ignore it for now.

He started to walk off the bridge and Beatrice quickly snatched his hand. He turned to her looking dumbfounded and asked, "Yes, my love? What is it now?"

"I...don't get a kiss?" she asked bashfully, feeling her cheeks turn scarlet.

Mistel took a step closer to her so that they were only inches apart, and leaned down so close to her face that his lips brushed against hers as he hoarsely whispered, " _Mon amour_ , you don't get a kiss until the first date. What kind of gentleman would I be if I were to kiss you right now?"

"A very generous one," she huskily returned, feeling a shiver run down her spine by the feeling of his soft lips brushing along hers with every word they uttered.

"Not tonight, my dear," he whispered, then moved his mouth to the side of her heated cheek, planting a long, tender kiss upon it. He straightened his spine and gave her a lopsided smile, then said in his usual teasing tone, "We'll have a date soon, where ever you'd like, and whatever you'd like to do. Just don't gaze at me for too long with those enormous ruby eyes of yours! They are bound to give me a heart attack, especially when you bat your lashes at me! The effect you have on me, my dear, you will never understand."

"I want a date soon then, darling," Beatrice said firmly, puffing out her cheeks. "I want to kiss you."

"Then it will be soon! Patience, Beatrice," Mistel chided playfully. "I'd like to kiss you as much if not more than you, but it will have to wait. You've kept me here long enough, I must go now, but I will be counting down the seconds until I see you and that adorable blush of yours again."

"As will I," Beatrice returned softly. _I wasn't aware you were capable of having such an adorable blush._

Mistel leaned down and kissed her still heated cheek once more, then abruptly pulled away and grabbed her free hand; keeping his eyes locked on hers and almost bowing as he kissed her hand, murmuring against it, " _Au Revoir, mon amour_."

At that he let go, turning on his heel and walking toward town with a little more pep in his step than usual. Beatrice stood there, paralyzed and slightly dazed, staring as his silhouette quickly faded away, and put her hand to her cheek where his warm lips were only a few seconds ago, her other hand barely holding onto the bouquet of yellow roses.

 _Until we meet again, my love._


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: This is why I start all my stories out at T, because I am incompetent. You'll understand what I mean once you've read the chapter. -_- Also, sorry if my writing is now kinda cliché. When I write romance it sort of gets that way. I do like romance, but I prefer angsty, dramatic romances. But if it were always dramatic then it would get boring, y'know? It took me so long to write because I felt like I'd never be happy with this chapter, so this will have to do. Hope it doesn't totally suck._

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Mistel paced back and forth with his hands causally clasped behind his back. It wasn't anxious pacing, nor angry pacing, but impatient excitement pacing.

"When do you think she'll be here, Iris?" he asked his sister, trying his best to keep the mirth out of his voice.

Iris sat at her writing table, her fingernails loudly tapping away on her typewriter with fervor. She abruptly stopped and whipped her head in his direction, narrowing her eyes at him and looking quite displeased that he had interrupted her when she obviously had a lot of writing that she needed to type out as soon as possible; her deadline was vastly approaching.

"Soon, brother, _patience_ ," Iris scolded mildly. "She always comes after she's eaten dinner on Saturdays—I don't really understand why, since we have treats and tea before we play any games."

He smiled at the word _patience._ It was what he kept telling Beatrice hardly three days ago before and after he had confessed. It had to be one of the strangest confessions he had ever experienced, but at least she agreed to become his. _A first—and with the most wonderful girl I've ever loved._ His heart had nearly broken in two when she had denied him, but then when she hastily told him she was in love with him too it mended as quickly as it had broken.

He could hardly believe she was finally his, that she was now officially _his_ Beatrice and no one else's. He smiled so large at the thought that it made his cheeks hurt. He had to pinch himself multiple times on his way home after he'd confessed to make sure he wasn't dreaming; he even slapped himself once just in case pinching didn't suffice.

He had been so glad to see her back to her usual spunky self, but was a little surprised by her outburst—but more so embarrassed. _Tying her up?_ He scoffed to himself, shaking his head in amusement. _What does she take me for, a pervert? I told her my love for her overrules my lust for her._

Her promiscuous words popped into his head, _'By the way, if anyone is getting tied up it will be you'_ , and he couldn't contain his smile by the memory. He knew she had a little mischievousness in her, but that was beyond just mischievous—it was erotic, and he found that to be a little unsettling, yet at the same time found it to be highly arousing. His smile turned into a grimace. _Why do I find that to be arousing...and why did I say 'I'd like that'?_ He shook his head in disgust and his subconscious nearly shouted at him, _Because you probably would like that!_

"Do you think game night counts as a date?" he wondered after a couple of minutes, attempting and failing to get the image of Beatrice with a mischievous smirk adorning her face untying his bow and using it to tie his wrists together. _Please let me stop thinking about this, please let me stop thinking about this_ , the words repeated themselves violently in his mind.

"Yes, and no," Iris replied, turning her body to face him in its entirety. "Since I will be here for some of it, then that part won't be a date. But I will be leaving after tea, so I suppose you can consider that a date." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she asked, "Why do you want to know? So you know whether or not it's appropriate to kiss her tonight?"

"Is it that obvious?" he sneered. "And where will you be going after tea?"

Iris sighed heavily. Her face twisted into a mournful look and she looked away, crossing her arms underneath her chest. "I went to check up on Klaus three days ago, and you should have seen him Mistel. He looked like death itself. It scared me, brother. Really frightened me. I'm worried for his life," she said with anguish. "He looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept at all since we had our little fight, so I've made him bouillabaisse and I'm going to make him eat it, whether he wants to or not."

"Ah, I see. I hope that's all you'll be doing?" Mistel asked in distaste. "Beatrice's idea of you abstaining from your... _activities_ with him is a very excellent one, and I would like to think it shall teach him a lesson. You deserve a ring, sister. You deserve to be loved." His voice took on a soothing, calming tone at the last two sentences.

"Yes, that's all we'll be doing," she snapped, glowering at him. "Except maybe I'll be kissing his tears away. _Goodness_ , you haven't the slightest idea of what he looked like. If you'd have seen him you would understand. He's never told me he's in love with me—nor have I to him—but I'm not that dense, Mistel. He loves me, I am sure of it. I have never been so sure of anything in my entire life. There's just something that he's keeping from me...as if he's afraid I'll run if he tells me. Perhaps I can coax the information out of him tonight...I'll just have to think of a good plan, because if I can't use my looks then I'll have to use my intelligence, and with Klaus it's much easier to just use my looks."

Mistel rolled his eyes. It didn't matter to him whether or not Klaus had some dark secret that he was afraid to tell her, he was still hurting his sister and for that he loathed him at the moment. He never really liked him to begin with.

He asked seriously, "You say he loves you, but do _you_ love him?"

He wasn't sure why he even asked that question. Ever since their fight he could hear Iris crying herself to sleep at night, and for what other reason than love would she be doing that? He couldn't fathom her just missing being sexually intimate with him that much to sob so hard over it. He really wished she would have fallen for someone other than Klaus. He hated to hear her crying at night all alone; he had no idea how to comfort her.

Come to think of it, she had never cried over any boyfriend before. Except for the boyfriend she had when she was twenty-four—but she had only cried because the man was abusive, but Mistel had taken care of that. Even though he had only been thirteen at the time, he had scared the man away one night while Iris was getting ready for their date. Apparently toying with a knife while trying to look as malicious as much as a young blond haired boy could look, then telling the man if he ever saw another bruise on his sister again that he would be found dead in a ditch somewhere and no one would _ever_ suspect it was him—since he was so _adorable_ , as the man would often say—was enough to make the man run away and never come back. Iris was mad at him at first, but not even two days later thanked him—that she was a fool to think that man would ever change. She had hugged and kissed him, and he had been immensely proud of himself.

That's how it had been for the two of them ever since their grandparents died. Iris took care of him and he took care of Iris. Iris could be a little overprotective at times, but he really couldn't complain much—he felt the same way about her. All they really ever had was each other, and if they didn't look out for one another then who would? Yet now it was slightly different. He had Beatrice to look out for him; to love him, and he couldn't help but to feel slightly guilty because of it. What if his dreams came true and Beatrice married him one day? Iris would be alone.

Sure, she was an adult and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but they had never been apart before. Of course he would still see her almost everyday. After all, he would still have to run the shop...but at night she would be alone. They told each other everything. Would that change once he was married? Would their bond not be as strong? He shook his head to get the thoughts out. He didn't want to dwell upon that right now. Tonight was going to be a good night, he was sure of it, and he didn't want to ruin it with such unpleasant thoughts.

After the incident with that horrible man Iris never dated anyone physically abusive again. Except now she was dating—well, sleeping with—someone who was mentally abusive. He knew he had no control over who Iris dated, but he couldn't allow his sister to continue dating Klaus if things didn't change—and soon. If he couldn't convince her to stop seeing Klaus he would have no other choice but to go directly to the source; and if Klaus really did love Iris as much as she thought he did, then Klaus would surely end their relationship after he told him how much he had been hurting his sister. That's what you do when you're in love with someone, right? Let them go if you're hurting them. He wasn't sure if Klaus would let her go, and if not he would just have to make him one way or another.

Iris's cheeks turned a pink hue while he was lost in his thoughts, but before she could answer he heard two soft knocks on the front door. He immediately stopped pacing and whipped his head in the direction of the staircase, anticipating her arrival. He felt so giddy he had to stop himself from jumping up and down with glee like a little schoolgirl.

"Uh...Iris, Mist—I mean darling, where are you two?" he heard Beatrice's voice come from the shop.

"Upstairs, my love," he called cheerfully. _Where else would we be?_

"Calm down," Iris mouthed at him.

Calm down? _Calm down?_ He was so excited to see her he trembled to the very ends of his fingertips. It was impossible for him to even fathom calming down. He heard her footsteps quickly running up the stairs, his heart beating quicker with every small stomp, and when she rounded the corner he felt his heart stop for a split second.

Beatrice grinned so large that her dimples showed, and she greeted sweetly, "Hello, darling." She turned to Iris and nodded her head, saying, "Good evening, Iris."

Iris abruptly stood and strolled gracefully over to Beatrice, putting her hands on either sides of her face and kissing her cheeks. Iris pulled away and put her hands to her shoulders, her violet eyes shining as she smiled down at her. "Good evening, Bee! What a pleasure it is to see you! I feel like it's been forever since I've last saw you. I'm so happy that my brother finally confessed his feelings for you."

Beatrice's cheeks turned pink, but her lips curled into a sly smile and she stared at him with smoldering eyes as she said, "As am I. He sure did take long enough, didn't he?" Beatrice laughed, the noise chiming throughout the room, and Iris began to laugh loudly with her.

Mistel glared at both of them. _I can't believe I'm jealous of my own sister._ He strode over to Beatrice and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her protectively to him. Her ruby eyes widened and her blush deepened as he bent slightly, kissing both of her heated cheeks. "Salutations, Beatrice," he whispered huskily, ignoring Iris's giggles. "What a pleasure it is for you to be here tonight."

"It's game night, darling," Beatrice nearly whispered, her cheeks still heated. "The pleasure is all mine for you to invite me."

"I wouldn't dream of not inviting you!" Mistel giggled, releasing her. "I fear game night will never be the same without you ever since the first time you came over."

"O-oh," Beatrice sputtered. She gazed into his eyes with an intensity in her stare, and he gazed right back with unflinching, blazing eyes. As each second ticked by he felt his heart quicken. He could feel a spark between them, and the sensation was both exhilarating and slightly uncomfortable; but he couldn't get himself to look away, paralyzed and too absorbed in the beauty of her eyes.

"Ahem," Iris coughed, still giggling slightly. "It's time for tea, lovebirds."

Beatrice looked away and flushed again. He gave her a lopsided smile, trying his best to stifle his own giggles. _Why must she be so adorable?_ He sat down on the turquoise sofa at the dining area, and Beatrice stood awkwardly by his side. _What is she waiting for? An invitation?_

"Iris, do you need any help preparing the tea?" Beatrice questioned, her voice squeaky.

"Oh, no, not at all. Please, take a seat," Iris returned.

Beatrice looked confused, her eyes frantically searching the room as if she was thinking of where to sit. She had sat down next to him almost every Saturday while they had tea, why was she acting so bashful all of a sudden? Was it because they were dating now? Mistel shook his head in amusement. He couldn't help it this time, and he erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Would you like to sit next to me, Beatrice?" he asked after a moment of calming himself.

"S-sure," she stammered, sitting down next to him but keeping him at arms length. He frowned. _Why are you sitting so far away from me, my love? I won't bite._

"What kind of tea would you like, Bee?" Iris asked as the kettle whistled loudly.

"English Breakfast, if you have it," she replied with a smile. _English Breakfast? Hmm, I must remember to pick some up next time I'm in the city._ He was happy he knew another one of her favorite things; he would have to wait until next year to gift her more yellow roses. Her birthday was on Monday—coincidentally the same day as Valentine's Day—and he couldn't just give her tea for her birthday. He made a mental note to ask her some of her other favorites later in the evening.

"I'm afraid we only have herb and milk tea," Iris said as she grabbed a tray from the top shelf of their kitchen, placing three teacups and a couple of fruit pastries on the tray.

"I'll have whatever Mistel is having, then."

"Herb tea it is," Iris said, laughing slightly. "Personally I prefer milk tea, but that's just my preference."

"Beatrice, why are you sitting so far away from me?" he wondered, frowning slightly. "I promise I don't bite."

"I, uh, didn't notice," she sputtered, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"Well, why don't you scoot a little closer, then?" he asked with a mischievous smirk, holding his arms out towards her.

Beatrice smiled and shook her head in amusement, her cheeks turning slightly pink. She scooted over and put her legs up on the sofa, folding her legs over each other and tucking them close to her body so that her knees stuck out. He wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head upon his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, inhaling in her intoxicating aroma of strawberries.

Iris placed the tray on the table, making them both jump slightly, and cooed, "Aw, that is the most adorable thing I've ever seen!" She sat down opposite of them and gave a sweet smile.

"Oh, shut it, sister," Mistel said, rolling his eyes at her. He released Beatrice and she sat up slightly, but still leaned on him. All three of them began to take small sips from their teacups, and Iris and Beatrice ate the treats as they did. Mistel couldn't get himself to eat any of them; he was just too nervous.

"Have you seen Klaus lately?" Beatrice asked Iris, sounding worried.

"Yes, I saw him just three days ago. Have you?"

"Unfortunately..." Beatrice trailed.

"I know what you mean, dear. He looked absolutely dreadful! After I'm done with my tea I'm going to go see him and bring him some bouillabaisse. I'm awfully worried about him," Iris said solemnly.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Iris," Beatrice said with a grin. "After all he's put you through...well, it really shows how much of a forgiving person you can be."

"Thank you, Bee. You know first hand on how forgiving I can be," Iris said and finished her tea, then stood. She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl with a lid on top of it. She gracefully strolled toward the staircase, but stopped for a split second to say, "Have fun tonight on your date, you two. Oh, and Mistel—v _ous savez où je garde mes préservatifs. Si elles sont nécessaires, bien sûr._ " Iris winked at them then continued on her way to the staircase.

"I wish you would stop saying that, Iris! _Il est notre premier rendez-vous et nous avons même pas embrassé!_ " he called after her as she walked down the stairs, and he heard Iris laughing loudly as she shut the front door behind her.

As soon as Iris left Mistel felt as if the atmosphere in the room had shifted; like there was some sort of tension he couldn't put his finger on. He had been alone with Beatrice before, but never in this kind of situation...and now he was beginning to feel awfully nervous; he nearly began to tremble.

"I wish you two would stop speaking french!" Beatrice said as she put down her teacup and turned to him, her ruby eyes blazing into his skull; subsequently making his heart flutter. "I really want to know what you two just said."

"Do you _really_ want to know?" he asked in a teasing tone, also putting his teacup down.

"Yes," she said firmly, puffing out her cheeks.

"Fine, my love, I will tell you—but expect to be embarrassed. Iris can be quite crude at times," he said simply.

Beatrice slowly nodded her head. He said, "Iris said 'You know where I keep my condoms. If they are necessary, of course. And I said 'It's our first date and we haven't even kissed.'"

He watched as Beatrice's face turned scarlet, and she stammered, "O-oh, I see.. Well, I hope you know they will not be necessary."

His eyes widened in shock and he exclaimed, "Of course not, my love! How can you even think that I would fathom doing such a thing?"

"Boys will be boys," she muttered.

Mistel put a finger to her chin and gently lifted her head to meet his loving gaze. He said softly, "Have you already forgotten that I am a man, and not a boy, Beatrice?"

She giggled shyly and leaned up to quickly kiss his cheek, her ruby eyes shining with mirth as she said, "How could I when you remind me so often?" After a moment of an electrifying prolonged gaze she asked, "So, does this count as a date?" She attempted and failed to wink, instead one side of her face just scrunched up.

Mistel couldn't contain his laughter by the look; it was too adorable. "Y-yes, I w-would like to t-think it does," he said between his laughter.

"Darling, why are you laughing at me?" Beatrice sadly asked, pouting slightly.

"I'm so sorry, my dear, but that was the most adorable attempt at a wink that I've ever seen!" he giggled. "You would be laughing too if you had seen yourself."

"I'm not very good at flirting, so I've never had to wink before," she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder again. "Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you!" She reached her hand into the pocket of her dress and pulled something out of it, keeping her hand firmly clasped around it. She slowly opened her hand, revealing a white pearl resting in the center of her palm.

"You know it's not my birthday, correct?" Mistel teased, taking the pearl from her palm and examining it. He put it in his pocket and said, "Thank you, my love...and speaking of birthdays, what would you like for yours?"

"Hmm? Don't you remember when we first met? That you'd have to find out on your own what my favorite things are."

"Yes, but I'm afraid I don't have time for that!" Mistel sighed, exasperated. "Please won't you tell me just a few of your favorite things, and foods? Then I'll surprise you and pick some at random."

"Fine, I'll tell you," she said, wrapping an arm around his torso and causing his heart to accelerate. "As for gifts, I like violet and green jewelry. Books too, obviously. Some of my favorite foods are mashed potatoes, stew, any kind of pasta dish, and I absolutely love carrot cake."

At the mention of books a fantastic idea popped into his brain, and he smiled to himself.

"Carrot cake? That sounds...disgusting. Ruining a cake with vegetables! That's almost a sin," he said distastefully.

Beatrice laughed loudly, her chiming laughter filling the room and echoing off the walls. It was a pleasant sound, and it made him smile. "I don't like vegetables either, but you can't taste it in the cake! It's quite delicious, you really should try it."

"Perhaps for you I will, but if it taste as disgusting as it sounds I can't guarantee that I won't spit it out into my handkerchief."

"I promise it won't taste as disgusting as it sounds. I was skeptical at first, too."

After a moment he asked, "Are you excited for your birthday?"

"Will you be coming over?" she wondered, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Yes, please be home by a reasonable hour. I'm going to make us dinner to celebrate your birthday."

"Then I'm very excited to be spending my birthday with you," Beatrice said in her usual singsong voice, beaming at him. She shifted slightly and put a hand to his cheek, her ruby eyes gazing into his while she battered her dark lashes at him. She grinned so large that her dimples showed, and his heart skipped a beat, then beat so quickly that it pounded in his ears. He stared back at her in stupor, his mouth slightly agape.

Beatrice's cheeks turned pink as she continued to stare at him, and he felt his own cheeks heat up. Her lips parted slightly and he could hear that her breathing had turned ragged. He watched, paralyzed, as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip then softly bit down on it for a second. He felt as if an invisible force was drawing them closer, and before he even knew it his face was only inches away from hers.

 _What do I do? Do I kiss her now? Do I ask first? Is it too soon in the night? Shouldn't we play a game first?_ "Beatrice, what game would you like to play?" he asked breathlessly, his violet eyes still locked on hers.

"We can play a game later," she said just as breathlessly as him. "I'd like for you to kiss me now, please."

He inhaled sharply. He wasn't sure if he was ready to kiss her yet; he was already trembling and she only had her hand on his cheek. He feared his heart would leap from his chest if her lips were on his. He leaned in closer, tilting his head slightly while Beatrice closed her eyes. He kept his eyes open. He wanted to see her reaction to what his was about to do.

Mistel gingerly brushed his lips across hers, back and forth for at least a minute. He abruptly pulled away and beamed at her while he said in a teasing tone, "Games now. Kissing later."

He attempted to calm his heart with slow intakes of breaths, then exhaling through his nose. Beatrice removed her hand from his face and gawked at him as her face twisted into a scowl, though her cheeks were bright red. "No!" she snapped. "Kissing now, games later!" She huffed and added, "You're such a tease."

"I am. Please get used to it if you wish to continue dating me," he said sweetly, beaming at her again. "I think it would be more appropriate if we were to play a game first, don't you?"

"Not really," she snarled, scooting away from him and crossing her arms below her chest.

Well, that wasn't the reaction he was expecting. He thought she might giggle and be just as relieved as him; but instead she was sulking and looking like a child who had their toy taken away, her mouth compressed in a thin line while she looked away.

"Please don't look so sad, my love. I was only messing with you," he said soberly. "Would you like to play darts?"

Beatrice's scowl softened and her lips twitched into a wicked grin, but she still wouldn't look at him. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'll just go home. Teasing is one thing, but _that_ , Mistel, was cruel."

He felt his heart leap into his throat. "Please don't leave," he begged, grabbing her hand and kissing each of her knuckles. "I didn't mean to be cruel, I only wanted to tease you a little bit. I thought you might have found it funny. I see now I was wrong. I promise to give you the best kiss you have ever had after we play darts." _Why did I promise that?_ He cringed inwardly. _I've never been praised for my kissing skills._

"You better keep that promise," she uttered. She suddenly shifted and knelt up on the sofa, leaning back on her heels. A mischievous smile adorned her face as she gazed down at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Since you've teased me, I think it's only fair that I tease you back."

His eyes widened in shock and he felt as if his whole body was aflame. _Goodness, what in the world does she have in mind?_ "I s-suppose, Beatrice..." he stammered, shrinking back down on the sofa under her gaze.

"Are you ticklish, darling?" she asked a little too sweetly.

"Not in the slightest," he lied, his breath hitching in his throat.

Beatrice leaned in so close that he could feel her warm breath on his face. He felt his pulse quicken as his chest started to heave up and down compulsively. Without breaking eye contact she softly rubbed her nose along his, then murmured against his lips, "You're lying."

 _Oh no._ Without another word she leaned back and started to ruthlessly tickle him under his ribs, laughing loudly as he squirmed and wiggled underneath her relentless torment. He started to giggle and laugh painfully as she moved her hands up his torso to his underarms, continuing on with her delightful torture. He attempted to grasp her wrists to make her stop but she slipped right out of his hands.

"Beatrice, stop!" he pleaded through his laughter. He thrashed his head from side to side as her hands moved up to his neck, her tickling unrelenting and strangely arousing. He tried to push her hands away from him, but she was stronger than he expected. She grinned down wickedly at him and he nearly shouted, "Please, my love, I cannot bear it any longer!"

She suddenly stopped and loomed over him, breathless and panting from laughter; his breathing mirroring hers. Her ruby eyes smoldered as she gazed down at him, glistening in...desire? Love? Amusement? Perhaps a mixture of all? He wasn't sure, but he was sure that the look made him stop breathing for a second.

She leaned in closer so that her nose nearly touched his, her lips curled in a coy smile. Her cheeks grew steadily redder as she held her gaze, her smile fading as she parted her lips again. "May I kiss you?" she whispered in such a low tone that he was surprised he could hear her.

 _Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. Why must she look at me with those_ eyes _?_ He immediately regretted telling her not to gaze at him for too long with her ruby eyes. She was clever, perhaps a little _too_ clever, and he knew in his heart of hearts that she was doing this on purpose.

Desire ran relentlessly through his veins and in the moment he really wished that he desired nothing but to make her happy—but that wish was in vain, because in truth he desired all of her; beauty, body, mind, and soul. _Love overrules my lust, love overrules my lust_ , the words repeated themselves over and over again in his mind. He was starting to doubt that, though, as his shorts were beginning to become uncomfortably tight.

"Darts?" He laughed nervously, tilting his head slightly to the side and giving her a lopsided smile.

Beatrice put a finger to his mouth and shook her head, the most sly of smiles on her face. "I think I prefer this game," she lowly purred. He nearly melted. He wasn't aware his heart could beat any faster and momentarily pondered if he was too young to have a heart attack.

Mistel gently grabbed her hand and kissed her finger, then put it to his chest. "Beatrice, feel my heart and how fast it's beating. Do you wish to give me a heart attack?"

"No..."

"Well my heart feels like it very well may explode! You are making me slightly nervous..." he lied, as he was very nervous and really wished that she would drop the subject. He feared he would miss her mouth, or gnash his teeth against hers. He was positive that if that happened that it would be the worst kiss of her life, and he would be so immensely embarrassed that he wouldn't be able to look at her for weeks.

Beatrice sighed. "It's just a kiss, Mistel. I'm rather nervous myself, but it's just a simple kiss—and would you please relax? I can nearly feel how tense your whole body is right now."

He hadn't realized it, but his whole body was extremely tense. He let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in and let himself relax a little. "All right, Beatrice, you can kiss me—but just a small kiss, nothing too passionate." _For the sake of my heart._

She pouted and whined, "But you said you'd give me the best kiss I've ever had after we played darts."

Mistel arched an eyebrow and teased, "Indeed, I did. But we haven't played darts, now have we?"

" _Fine_ ," she groaned. She stared at him for a moment longer, her flush returning, then moved her head over to the side of his face, tenderly kissing his cheek.

"I thought you were going to kiss me," he said, completely baffled.

"This is technically a kiss," Beatrice murmured against his cheek, "and I'm making my way to your lips. Now would you please shut your mouth before I lose all my nerve."

He swallowed hard as he felt his whole body flare. Beatrice kissed his cheek again, nearly kissing the side of his mouth, then abruptly pulled away and sat back down on the sofa, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry, Mistel, I can't do this. I feel like I'm forcing myself on you," she said in a small voice, almost sounding as if she was about to cry. She shook her head rapidly back and forth, saying, "I haven't changed at all. I haven't changed one bit."

He hadn't the slightest clue what she was talking about. He felt his heart clench and leaned up, scooting closer to her and gently prying her hands from her face. He held both her hands close to his chest while he took in her appearance.

Her ruby eyes were wide and her lashes were beaded with tears, and as soon as they met his she looked to her lap. She looked slightly ashamed. It unsettled him. "Goodness, Beatrice, please don't cry," he nearly begged. "You weren't forcing yourself on me... Well, not exactly. It's just so early in the night, and I am not positive if my heart can handle a kiss at the moment."

"I'm sorry," Beatrice muttered, her eyes still glued to her lap.

Mistel squeezed her hands and said, "Please stop apologizing." He paused for a couple of minutes. "It's strange, isn't it? Going from best friends to lovers..."

"It is!" Beatrice emoted, finally looking at him. "I don't quite understand it. What do we do? Are we still best friends? Do we ignore that all together? I've never had this problem before."

"I'd like to think we're still best friends even though we are now lovers. Who says we can't be both? Not that I'd know, but I would think best friends make the best lovers, don't you agree? We already know so much about each other, so we can skip the awkward getting-to-know-you part of a relationship," Mistel said quickly.

"Well, yes, we do know a lot about each other, but not everything," Beatrice said a bit hesitatingly. "For example, I don't know anything about your past love life. Have you had many girlfriends?"

Mistel didn't really want to answer that. After a moment he said hollowly, "Define 'girlfriend'."

Beatrice laughed. "A girlfriend: someone who you go on dates with, someone who you love. Someone you kiss and laugh together and have a good time with."

"I've had flings, but I've never actually had a girlfriend. I've been in love, I've kissed girls, but I've never been in a relationship," he muttered. "Have _you_ had a girlfriend?" He smirked.

Beatrice chuckled. "No, but I've kissed a girl."

His eyes widened in shock as he gaped at her. "I wasn't aware you liked girls in that way."

"Oh, I don't," she laughed. "Just me and my friends playing spin-the-bottle when we were young teenagers." She paused. "I must admit, I'm a bit jealous. I've never been in love before—well, until now. What was it like, when your 'flings' ended?"

"Painful," Mistel muttered. He quickly changed the subject back to about her. "I find it hard to believe that you've never had a boyfriend before. You are simply too beautiful. Surely a boy swept you off your feet at some point in your life?"

"I said I've never been in love, not that I didn't have any boyfriends," Beatrice replied conversationally.

" _Boyfriends_?" he hissed, releasing her hands. "As in, more than one?"

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Only two, darling. Please don't tell me you're jealous of boys that I dated when I was sixteen and seventeen." She added, "Plus, it sounds to me that you've had more girlfriends—or flings, as you called it—than I've had boyfriends."

"I'm not," Mistel lied smoothly. "And I've only ever had a couple of short flings. With me and Iris moving around so much there wasn't enough time to actually have a real girlfriend. We did stay in one town for about a year, but apparently the girl I was in love with wasn't looking for a real relationship; she just wanted to drag me around by the nose. She was cruel... She acted very sweet; she would tell me how much she liked me and would kiss me, but when I confessed to her she turned me down.

"Enough about my love life. I've kissed a total of three girls in my life, so there isn't much to tell," he laughed without humor. "Tell me about your past boyfriends. What were they like?" _Am I a masochist now? Why did I say that? I'd prefer to think they never existed._

"Simple. Stupid. And not nearly as handsome as you," Beatrice replied, flashing him her brilliant smile.

"Then why in the world would you date them?" Mistel asked, bemused.

"Reasons I'd rather not discuss with you at the moment. I fear you'll track them down and castrate them," Beatrice said frankly.

"Ah, I see," he attempted to say simply, but his voice came out in a subtle growl. He felt his blood begin to boil and started to take deep breaths to calm himself. She needn't say anymore, he understood completely what kind of relationship she had with those boys. He quickly changed the subject to something else before he lost his mind. "I must admit, it is kind of peculiar to see you without a book by your side."

"Lillie said it would be rude to bring a book with me... I wasn't sure if this was a date, but she said just in case that it was that I shouldn't bring one," she returned. "Lillie also told me to wear something else other than this dress. She said something about how she helped Corona the other day in helping pick out an outfit and that Gunther loved it. She was a little crossed with me for not letting her pick out an outfit for me, but I just feel more comfortable in this. Would you have preferred if I had dolled myself up?" Beatrice didn't sound anxious or nervous when asking, and he could tell that she was starting to relax a little more; that she was being her usual self instead of trying to act like someone she wasn't.

"Well, nothing bad can come of tidying oneself up..." he said a bit hesitatingly. "Although I'm positive you would look excellent in anything, and you do look wonderful tonight, as always," he said with a faint smile, taking her hand in his and kissing the top of it. He held on to her hand. He liked the feeling of her skin on his, even though her hands were always so cold. It made him feel comforted, it made him feel whole.

"So you would have preferred if I did doll myself up?" she said crossly, looking down at their hands while her cheeks turned scarlet.

"No, you misunderstood...but if you do ever decide to 'doll yourself up' please only do it around me. With that brilliant smile of yours it would do nothing but inflate the number of suitors I would have to fend off," Mistel said, grimacing.

"Oh, shut up," Beatrice said, laughing.

"You don't understand in the slightest. Goodness, you really don't know how beautiful you are, do you?" Mistel said, and Beatrice kept her eyes fixated on their hands. "All of the boys in town look at you like you are something to be devoured, but you're not. You are to be savored, you are to be treated preciously. You're not just a pretty face, you're intelligent and clever and thoughtful. You are truly the most wonderful person I have ever met."

He felt his body relax and his cheeks flush. He smiled sweetly and said, "When I started dating you, I thought I didn't have to worry about you anymore...or anything else, for that matter. But I just got greedier and greedier, to the point that I'm never satisfied at all anymore! And that's not a good thing, is it?"

Beatrice looked at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean? Of course you don't have to worry about me anymore! I only have eyes for you, I hope you know that. And what do you mean by 'I'm never satisfied at all anymore'?"

"It's not you that I worry about, it's those boys with their hungry eyes," he assured her, scowling slightly. "And I meant that I just want to be with you always. The past three days without seeing you have been torturous. I know you are a very busy person, but I do need some affection just as you do."

"I'm sorry, I'll try to come see you every other day from now on. I've missed you, too," Beatrice murmured.

"While that would make me very happy, I do not want to interfere with your work. Just come see me when you have the time, or I could come see you."

"That sounds good," Beatrice said with a shy smile.

After a couple of minutes of comfortable silence he asked, "So, what book are you currently reading?"

"The Time Machine," Beatrice replied.

"Really?! That's my favorite book!" Mistel emoted. "How do you like it?"

"It's very interesting," she said. "I didn't take you for the type of guy who would like science fiction. Why is it your favorite book?"

"Don't you find it interesting, the concept of traveling forwards or backwards in time? Then how over thousands of years people can evolve, and even split into two different species? One who are brutish and are cannibals, while the others are oblivious and don't care about anyone but themselves? And the ending! It's just so wonderfully interesting!" Mistel said excitedly.

"Don't tell me about the ending, darling! I haven't finished it yet," Beatrice said, playfully slapping his arm.

"I won't!" he laughed loudly. "I didn't say anything to spoil it for you. But you must finish it, it's truly a masterpiece."

"I will. Perhaps even tonight if I can't fall asleep," she said. "What would you like to do for the rest of the night?"

"Would you still like to play darts?" he suggested.

"Hmm, no, I don't think so. Would you like to dance? You have quite a lot of room and a beautiful record player."

"I would love to dance," Mistel said, smirking at her. He stood up and offered his hand to Beatrice, pulling her up from the sofa. He hadn't anticipated on her being so light, and she ended up falling into his arms. She leaned against his chest, looking slightly up at him while her cheeks grew steadily redder.

"Are you all right?" he asked, lifting her slightly by her arms and straightening her out.

"Y-yes," Beatrice stuttered, casting her eyes to the floor.

Mistel giggled loudly. "You're blushing again! I've never seen you blush around anyone but me, you know. Not that I mind. I'd rather keep your adorable blush to myself. But I do wonder, why is it only me who makes you blush?"

"I'm not sure, I really have no idea. I hardly ever blushed before I met you," Beatrice said, looking into his eyes intensely. "Perhaps it's all the teasing, or maybe it's because I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Mistel turned around and smiled to himself, whispering, "Neither have I."

He strolled over to the bookcase where the records were kept. He picked out one of his favorites and placed it on the record player, setting the stylus to one of his favorite songs.

Beatrice walked over to where he was standing in the middle of the room. Mistel smiled mischievously and gave a slight bow. He held out his hand to her and asked sweetly, "May I have this dance?"

Beatrice returned his smile, her cheeks turning pink. She gave a small curtsy and took his hand, saying, "Would you mind leading? I fear I'm not nearly as good as a dancer as you."

"Of course," he said, smirking.

The song he picked out started out slow, and he held her hand high in the air while he wrapped his other around her waist, pulling her close to him. Beatrice put her free hand on his shoulder and Mistel began to slowly spin her around the room, their eyes never leaving each other's.

The music picked up the tempo and he grinned at her as he began to spin her around more quickly. He let go of her waist to spin her around in a circle, then spun her into his chest. They both began to laugh, breathless from dancing quicker. Their eyes met for a split second before her spun her out from his chest, spinning her once more in a circle.

Mistel wrapped his arm around her waist again, holding her body flush against his while they danced around the room. Beatrice looked up at him with a huge grin on her face, her dimples showing and her eyes dancing with mirth. Mistel had never seen her look so happy before; and now that he thought about it, he had never felt so happy before. He wished she could stay in his arms forever.

He knew the song was about to end, and he dipped her down low. He bent down with her, and the next song began as they stared at each other. Beatrice's ruby eyes widened as her lips parted slightly. She was already breathless from dancing, but her breathing became even more uneven as she held her gaze.

Mistel's already pounding heart beat even quicker as he stared right back at her, and before he even knew what he was doing he leaned down even further, closing his eyes and softly pressing his lips to hers.

Mistel thought that would satisfy him; a sweet kiss without even their lips moving, but once he felt how soft her lips were and how intoxicating the feeling was he felt anything but satisfied. Without breaking apart, he pulled her up and put his hands to her waist, gently pushing her until her back was against the wall.

He pinned Beatrice to the wall with his hips, tilting his head slightly to deepen their kiss. He heard her breath hitch in her throat, his heart beating a mile a minute. He put one hand to her cheek, the other balled up in her hair. He moved his lips sweetly and slowly with hers, and she grasped his waistcoat tightly in her hands, attempting the impossible to pull him closer to her.

He heard Beatrice make a low moaning sound deep in her throat, causing his whole body to feel like it was on fire. He broke their lips apart for a moment to catch his breath and to tilt his head the other way, but he hardly had a chance to.

Beatrice moved one hand to his blond locks and roughly pulled on them to force his lips back to hers, her kisses more urgent and hungry. Mistel shuddered against her body, and gently pulled on her chocolate-colored hair to tilt her head. Their bodies were so close he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his own chest.

Beatrice moved her hand back to his waistcoat, pulling on it again. He could feel her trembling against his body, and smiled inwardly. Apparently he was having just as much as an effect on her as she was on him. He felt her timidly brush her tongue along his, as if asking for permission, and he happily obliged; entwining his tongue with hers.

Mistel immediately regretted doing that, as Beatrice began to passionately kiss him without mercy. He felt a wave of desire rush throughout his body and kissed her just as mercilessly as she was kissing him. She tilted her head and he caught his breath for a short moment before she pressed her lips back to his, then softly bit on his lower lip.

Their eyes met with a spark, and he moaned loudly into her mouth—which caused Beatrice to press her body more firmly into his. He really didn't want to pull away; he would be perfectly content kissing her for the rest of eternity. But their kisses were becoming more passionate by the second, and he feared that if he didn't stop soon things would go further than he wanted to tonight.

Mistel broke their lips apart but continued to pin her body to the wall with his hips. Beatrice let out a small groan of displeasure, and he gave her a few more swift pecks before resting his forehead against hers. He lovingly gazed into her beautiful ruby eyes while they gasped for breath, and although Beatrice's eyes glistened with love they also were dark with desire—and he had no doubt that his eyes were no different.

He felt as if his brain had suddenly stopped working, his head clouded to the point where he could hardly think at all. He felt slightly woozy and weak in the knees. He had never been drunk before, but he was almost positive that the intoxicating feeling he felt was the same effect alcohol would have on him. He momentarily forgot how to speak, and had a hard time stringing a sentence together. "So...how...was that?" Mistel hoped she couldn't hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Beatrice beamed, her adorable dimples showing, and said in her usual singsong voice, "Perfection. The best kiss I've ever had. You kept your promise."

Mistel sighed in relief. "Ah, I'm very glad to hear that. Overjoyed, actually." He realized he was still pinning her to the wall and took a step back.

"Well... How was it for you?" Beatrice wondered, her tone sounding uncertain.

"Atrocious. You are an awful kisser, my dear," Mistel said seriously. He tried his very hardest not to smile.

"Wh-what?" Beatrice gasped. "I had no idea I was such an awful kisser..." She pouted, fixating her eyes on her boots. Her whole face turned crimson.

Mistel giggled loudly. "I'm just joking, my love! You are a wonderful kisser. That was positively the best kiss I've ever experienced!" He put a finger under her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes. "The very notion of you thinking that you would be an awful kisser is absurd. I never wanted it to end!" He beamed brightly.

He pressed his lips softly to hers again for a second. "You are far too adorable. I can hardly handle it! You've cajoled me into wanting to kiss you every second of every day with your adorable naivete!"

"It's so very hard to tell when you're joking, darling!" Beatrice exclaimed, her flush slowly fading.

"It's a skill I've mastered," he said, his bright smile returning. He cast his eyes to his grandfather clock and pouted. "Drat! We must've lost track of the time, it's nearly eleven. Surely you must be getting tired! Let me see you home."

Beatrice yawned and said, "Yes, I'm a bit sleepy. But there's no need for you to walk me all the way back to my farm. It's about a half an hour walk at least, and then you'd have to walk all the way back home. I'd feel bad."

"If you insist, my dear. At least let me walk you to the mountain trail." He was slightly disappointed that he wouldn't be walking her home; he wanted to be with her for a little while longer. But she was right, if he did walk her home he wouldn't return until midnight, and he needed to get some sleep; he had work in the morning. Although he now doubted he would be able to fall asleep at all with the memory of their kiss fresh in his mind. He would probably be thinking about it all night, anticipating the next time he could feel her soft lips against his.

"Yes, of course you can walk me to the mountain trail, that's hardly a five minute walk!"

Mistel smiled and took her hand in his. "Let's be off, come on."

He pulled her down the stairs and out the door. Once outside he let go of her hand, and before he could even catch his breath Beatrice roughly pushed him against the door, putting her hands on either sides of his face and passionately claiming his lips.

She pulled away after a moment, her cheeks dusted a light shade of pink. She gave him a coy smile and said timidly, "I wanted to kiss you one last time before I had to leave. I wasn't sure when the next time I'd be able to."

After a second of composing himself Mistel beamed at her, cheerfully saying, "You can kiss me anytime, anywhere you'd like!"

Mistel heard a loud noise that sounded like a slap coming from the direction of Klaus's house and both him and Beatrice looked over. It was apparent that Iris had just slapped Klaus, as he was holding his hand to his cheek and gaping at her. In the next moment Iris grabbed Klaus's face in her hands and kissed him very passionately, then pulled away and slapped him hard.

Beatrice looked to Mistel and raised an eyebrow, giving him a weird look. He just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Promise me our relationship will never be as screwed up as theirs," Beatrice muttered.

"That, my dear, is a promise I am positive I can keep," he said in a teasing tone.

Klaus hung his head low and walked into his house. Iris stormed over to them with a scowl on her face. She fiercely stated, "I'm done with him! He is a disgusting man, and I'd be happy if I never had to see his face again!"

With that she threw open the door and stomped inside. Mistel looked to Beatrice and said a little sadly, "I'm afraid I won't be able to walk you to the mountain trail, I have to go and see if Iris is all right."

"That's fine," Beatrice said. "I'd much rather you make sure Iris is okay, anyway."

Mistel took her hand in his and kissed it. He looked into her eyes and said, "I promise next time I will take you on a proper date. Until then, my dear."

Beatrice grinned and kissed his cheek. "Until then," she said, then turned on her heel and walked away.

"Perhaps you could come visit me before then!" he called after her.

Mistel heard her chiming laughter and watched her until she rounded the corner of the eastern stairs, then went inside of his home. He walked up the stairs to see that Iris was sitting on one of the turquoise sofas, a glass of wine in her hand.

"So I take it that it didn't go very well?" Mistel said, arching an eyebrow.

Iris scoffed and downed the glass of wine in one swig, then poured herself another. He sighed and sat down next to her.

"I don't want to talk about it," Iris said. "All I need is you. You are precious to me, Mistel, and you're all the love I need."

"I just want to see you happy, Iris," Mistel said soberly.

"I don't need a man to make me happy, brother!" Iris snapped.

"I know...but I would prefer you have a significant other to keep you company..." he said hesitatingly. "I may not always be here, you know?"

"I know," Iris sighed. "I feared this day would come... I just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon.

"I really don't want to be alone once you're married off, but what other choice do I have?" Iris looked into his eyes and for a moment he feared she might cry.

"You could try dating a man who would love you like you deserve to be loved," Mistel suggested.

"I think it would be best if I were alone for a little while...but I did hear through the grapevine that a man named Nadi would be arriving in town soon," Iris said. "Perhaps I could try pursuing him?"

"As long as it's not Fritz I will be happy with whomever you choose to be with," Mistel said with a faint smile.

"Thank you, Mistel. I think I may drink a little more and go to bed, but you look rather tired yourself. So please don't worry about me, and go to sleep. You have work in the morning," Iris said sternly.

Mistel stood and walked toward his bedroom. Before he opened the door he said, "Please do not drink too much, sister. I'll worry all night if you do."

"I won't," she promised. "Just one more glass and I'll be off to bed myself."

He sighed. "Goodnight, Iris. If you need me you know where to find me."

Iris nodded her head and took another sip out of her glass. Mistel headed into his bedroom and closed the door. Apparently he wasn't going to have to convince Klaus to leave her.

He changed into his pajamas and laid down in his bed, all of the things that had transpired throughout the night dancing in his brain while he tried to fall asleep.

The thoughts were bittersweet. Although Beatrice and him had a successful night, Iris had the exact opposite. He didn't want her to feel lonely or left out, but what could he do?

He was happy and she was miserable.

Mistel fell asleep that night with the sound of Iris softly sobbing and thoughts of him and Beatrice dancing and their kisses. As much as he tried, he couldn't get the thoughts of her soft lips on his out of his mind, nor her ruby eyes boring into his head.

Mistel couldn't fall asleep until at least two a.m. He had no idea when Iris fell asleep. He could still hear her sobs as he drifted off.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/n: Sorry for taking so long! I just started a new job and I've been having bad anxiety-and I cannot write when my nerves are bad. So, this chapter is pretty much just a filler, cute chapter. Mostly. You know I had to put a little bit of angst, otherwise it wouldn't be me haha You get to learn Beatrice's favorite book in the chapter, which is also my favorite book haha Anyway, I've noticed not as many people are reviewing as much as you guys did in the beginning chapters, so if you're reading please review! It truly makes me so happy to get reviews, you have no idea! I hope you like this chapter, enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

Beatrice stared at herself in her bathroom's mirror, ruby eyes staring straight back. _Did I put on too much makeup, did I not put enough on?_ She had never been very good with makeup. She hardly owned any. In the end she decided that mascara and subtle pink lipstick that nearly matched the color of her lips would do. She still wasn't sure if it was enough, or too much, or if Mistel would even like it. But she thought it might build up some self confidence, which she desperately needed at the moment.

She thought she would have been happy on her birthday, that she would skip around town and greet everyone with a sincere smile on her face. Instead she had a knot in her stomach all day; so anxious about her dinner with Mistel that she had to try with all her might not to quiver as she went around town.

She had to force a smile as she greeted each villager, who all wished her a happy birthday; most of them giving her a gift. Even Melanie and Lutz had a gift to give her. She was a tad bit surprised when Fritz gave her a gift after all that she put him through, which only confirmed what she already knew—that he had a kind heart and was a good friend.

She avoided Mistel all day. She made sure not to go into the western part of town until she knew his morning stroll was over, for fear she would come across him and end up having to run in the opposite direction; which she knew would confuse him and possibly even upset him. She was relieved to see Iris strolling around town so she wouldn't have to go into the shop to greet her. She was just too nervous to see Mistel. Even now her hands trembled as she continued to stare at herself.

Klaus had gifted her with some sort of romance perfume—which confused her—and she had dabbed some on her wrists and her neck. She had noticed that Klaus still didn't look very well, but at least he had shaved and looked like he was sleeping and eating more.

She had tried on at least five different outfits before choosing a blue long sleeved dress with a scoop neck that flared out at her waist and came down to her knees. She hoped the dress wasn't too revealing. After her passionate kiss with Mistel she didn't want him to get the wrong idea; that she was ready to be more intimate with him. After all, they had only been dating for hardly a week.

She knew she was overreacting a bit, but she couldn't get Mistel's words out of her head—that nothing bad can come of tidying oneself up. So she did. She brushed out her chocolate-colored hair for the hundredth time as she stared at her reflection; her large, innocent eyes appearing even larger by the mascara, wondering, _Am I dolled up enough?_

She put her brush down and looked to her chest. Her cleavage was very visible and the tops of her breasts looked like they may pop out of the dress if she moved the wrong way. _Am I_ too _dolled up?_ She gained a little weight since moving to town, which made her curves larger and more prominent. She didn't look like this the last time she wore the dress, but that was before she moved to town.

She thought she might lose weight from all the hard work she had to do, but she hadn't anticipated the restaurant and the extra cash. She found herself having much more to eat in town than she ever did back home. Everyday except Sunday—in which her family would have a big dinner—her siblings and her had to scavenge the house themselves for food. Sometimes she only ate once a day. There were too many people in the house and not nearly enough food.

Beatrice jumped when she heard a knock on the door, followed by, "Salutations, Beatrice. Do you have a moment?" It was undoubtedly Mistel. Not only because she knew his voice almost as well as she knew her own, but because who else would say salutations?

"One second, please!" she called. She gripped the sink's edges so tight her knuckles turned white as she took deep breaths to try to calm herself. After a moment she gave herself one last look in the mirror, squared her shoulders and held her head up high, then headed for the door.

When she opened the door she was greeted by Mistel's beaming face, a basket in his one hand. His smile quickly vanished once he saw her. He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her cleavage for longer than they should have—which caused her to feel heat quickly rise from her neck and into her face—then he stared at her face and blinked a few times.

"As you know, I told you I'd throw a celebration for your birthday and make a special dinner for us," Mistel said calmly, his violet eyes glued to hers.

Beatrice slowly nodded her head. "Please, come in. It's freezing out there," she said in discern, opening the door wider and gesturing with her hand for him to enter.

Mistel strolled in and placed the basket on her dining table. He turned around and blinked at her a few more times. After a prolonged gaze he smiled brightly and said, "Beatrice, my dear, have you any idea how stunning you look tonight?"

"I thought I would get dressed up for my birthday dinner," she said bashfully. "Is it too much?"

"You look perfect!" Mistel giggled loudly, and the sound made her smile.

"Thank you," Beatrice said softly, looking to the ground for a moment as she felt her cheeks heat even more. She skipped to her dining table and took one of Mistel's hands. She smiled crookedly and said, "You look handsome tonight, as always."

"My love, you're trembling!" Mistel emoted, squeezing her hand. "Are you cold?"

"Oh, no, not at all," she assured him with a faint smile. "Just nervous, is all."

"There's no need to be nervous, we're just simply having dinner!" Mistel laughed. "Come, let's eat before it goes cold."

Beatrice let go of his hand and exhaled deeply. He was right. There was no reason for her to be nervous, they were just having dinner together. She wished she would have seen him earlier so she wouldn't of had the knot in her stomach all day, which she realized had vanished as soon as she saw him.

She turned around to see that Mistel had pulled her chair out for her. He gestured with his hand for her to sit. She obliged and giggled as he pushed in her chair. As he walked over to his own she said teasingly, "How gentlemanly of you."

"I may tease, but that doesn't mean I can't be a gentleman," Mistel said with a smirk as he sat down.

Beatrice watched as he pulled food after food out of the basket; far too much for them to be able to eat. Her eyes lit up when she saw the carrot cake. She noticed a blue and purple wrapped present at the bottom of the basket and wondered, "What's that?"

"It's for you, but you don't get it until after dinner," Mistel said frankly, then placed the basket on the floor.

Beatrice looked at each food item in turn, her eyes widening a little more at each one. She felt a huge grin spread across her face when her eyes reached the teacup in front of her. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked excitedly.

"If you think it's English Breakfast tea, then yes. It is what you think it is," Mistel said in a teasing tone, beaming at her.

"And the food! It's all my favorites! Well, except for the penne all'arrabbiata—that's your favorite," Beatrice said, grinning.

"You did say you liked any kind of pasta dish, and this _is_ a pasta dish."

"Well, I can't argue with that logic," Beatrice said. "Now let's eat!"

She put a small amount of everything on her plate and began to scarf down the food in front of her. She was starving; she was too nervous to eat all day. She looked up to see Mistel had done the same, but was just picking at everything and really only eating the penne all'arrabbiata. His eyes met hers for a second, and she looked down at her plate, her cheeks turning scarlet. She realized she was acting like a pig and started to eat more slowly.

Beatrice looked up to see Mistel was done eating and was staring at her. She could have sworn she saw him looking at her cleavage, but before she could catch him ogling her his violet eyes met hers. She felt her cheeks heat slightly. His lips twitched into a lopsided smile and he giggled, "I'm glad you're enjoying this! Is the flavor to your liking?"

"Oh yes, for sure!" Beatrice emoted, waving her fork around, "Thank you, darling, it's delicious!"

"You're very welcome. I'm just happy to see you enjoying yourself so much!" Mistel's smile widened.

Beatrice gave a shy smile before returning to her plate, which was almost empty. After a couple more bites she pushed her plate to the side with Mistel's.

Mistel delicately pushed the cake into the middle of the table and asked, "Would you like to sing Happy Birthday?"

"Please no!" Beatrice nearly begged. "I don't care much for that song. I've heard it seven times a year for nineteen years and quite frankly I'm sick of it."

"All right, no Happy Birthday," Mistel laughed loudly. "At least allow me to cut the cake."

"How can I deny you that?" she said teasingly, feeling her lips curl into a smirk.

Mistel shook his head in amusement and placed a clean plate in front of her. She was waiting for him to place a plate in front of himself but he didn't. "Aren't you going to try a slice?" she wondered, cocking her head to the side slightly.

"I said I'd try it, not that I would eat a whole slice," Mistel said simply as he cut into the cake, "I detest carrots. They are my least favorite things in the world. Any way you cook them, I'll still hate them. They're disgusting."

 _Okay, mental note: Mistel hates carrots more than anything._ "Okay, fine, but at least try a bite. Like I said, it doesn't really taste like carrots at all. More like spice cake. It just adds flavor."

Mistel absentmindedly nodded his head and put a slice on her plate. Beatrice eagerly sliced a sliver from the piece with her fork and plopped it in her mouth. It was delicious, and she hummed in satisfaction as she chewed it.

"You _must_ try some; it's so good!" she insisted.

Mistel groaned and said, " _Fine_ , but I have my handkerchief ready to spit it out if I don't like it."

She giggled softly as she sliced another piece with her fork. She leaned over the table and waved the fork in front of his face, saying, "Come on, open up!"

Mistel rolled his eyes but obliged. She carefully placed the fork in his mouth then removed it. She watched him chew the cake, half expecting him to gag or spit it out like he said he would. Instead he looked like he was contemplating the flavor, and she was a little surprised when he swallowed it.

"Well, it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be," Mistel stated, "but I will not be having a slice. I would rather watch you enjoy it, anyway."

"O-oh, okay," Beatrice stammered, then began to eat the rest of her slice.

"So, you had to listen to Happy Birthday seven times a year? Exactly how many siblings do you have?" Mistel wondered.

She swallowed then said, "Three brothers and two sisters. I'm the youngest, so they always fussed over me... Well, actually, they still make a pretty big fuss over me."

"And their names? Ages?"

"Annabelle is the oldest, she's twenty-nine and just got married. Then there's Demetrius, who will surely hate you because he hates all my boyfriends, and he's twenty-seven. After that there's my second sister Anita, and I'm positive she will love you; she's a very warm and friendly person. She just turned twenty-four. Then I have twin brothers, Jasper and Vlad, who are twenty-one. I have a feeling Jasper will be quite fond of you, he really enjoys books. Vlad mostly keeps to himself, I'm not sure how he'll take to you. My mother and father are very nice, so there's no need to worry about them. In fact, I actually already wrote a letter to them to tell them I'm dating you now."

"Ah, I see. That's quite a big family you have," Mistel said flatly, even a little remorsefully.

"I hope you will come meet them some day," Beatrice said.

"Of course, my dear. If you wish for me to meet your family then I will happily oblige," Mistel said with a faint smile.

Beatrice pushed her now empty plate to the side and Mistel said, "Allow me to do the cleanup."

"Oh no, that's hardly necessary! Just put the dishes in the sink and the leftovers in the fridge," she insisted. "Then I'll do the dishes later. That way I can return them to you tomorrow, therefore I have a reason to visit you." She smiled brightly.

"Visit me any time you'd like! You don't need a reason!" Mistel stated with a short laugh.

Beatrice felt her cheeks flare and nodded her head bashfully. She stared at the table and listened as Mistel stacked the dishes on top of each other and headed toward her kitchen, then did the same with the leftovers.

She stood when she heard his footsteps returning from her kitchen. She watched as he picked up the blue and purple wrapped present and held it firmly behind his back. He strolled over so he was standing in front of her and said, "There. Sorry to keep you waiting. The cleanup is complete!"

"Oh, no, not a problem at all. Thank you again for the meal, it was delicious," Beatrice said with a feigned smile. She was beginning to feel nervous again.

"I'm glad you liked it so much. That justifies every last bit of effort I put into making it," Mistel said, beaming.

Beatrice's cheeks turned a pink hue and she slowly nodded her head.

Mistel took his hands from behind his back and presented her with the wrapped present. He grinned and said, "Happy Birthday, my love! This is my present to you."

Beatrice gingerly took it from his hands. She said in a low tone, "How did you know blue and purple are my favorite colors?"

"That's a secret," Mistel said with a mischievous smirk, tapping his nose twice with his finger. He laughed, "Actually, you told me! My Beatrice is so forgetful! Now please, won't you open it!"

She carefully undid the wrapping and placed it on her dining table. Her eyes went wider than she thought possible when she saw the present: her favorite book, Wuthering Heights—which of course she already had—but it was the first edition.

"Darling! You shouldn't have! This must've cost you a fortune!" she emoted, looking to Mistel then to the book and back again.

"As I said before, money is of no object to me. I wanted to get you the perfect birthday present," Mistel said with a lopsided smile, his violet eyes dancing with pure happiness.

"Well, you succeeded! I still feel bad, though... I know this had to of cost a lot of money—"

Mistel cut her off, saying firmly, "I'll hear no more of this. If you wanted a ring that cost more than my house I would have bought it for you without a second thought. As long as you love it, then it was worth every cent."

Beatrice felt as if her cheeks were on fire. She said timidly, "I do love it, it's the best present I've ever received." She carefully placed the book down on her dining table.

Mistel took a step toward her so they were only inches apart. He beamed at her and said cheerfully, "Beatrice... I hope you know that your happiness is my happiness."

Beatrice held her tongue but felt like saying, _Oh, no, you have it all wrong!_ Your _happiness is_ my _happiness!_

Mistel continued with his bright smile still plastered on his face, "So for the coming year, I will do everything I can to make sure it's a wonderful, happy time for you!"

She watched as his whole face softened: his violet eyes warming, his cheeks turning pink, and a small, pleasant smile on his lips. She felt her heart skip a beat by the look and hoped that look was reserved for her and her only.

He said softly, "I love you, Beatrice. I hope you will stay by my side—and only mine—for a long, long time to come."

Mistel put his hand to her heated cheek and stared into her ruby eyes intensely, and she felt her cheeks heat even more as she stared straight back into his violet ones. She watched as he slowly closed his eyes and leaned in, giving her the most tender, sweetest kiss she'd ever had.

After a moment he pulled away. He hoarsely said, "Happy Birthday. Would you like for me to leave now?"

Beatrice smiled mischievously and said, "Actually, I was hoping you'd join me for a game of darts."

"I'd love nothing more than to play darts with you!" Mistel laughed loudly.

She took him by the hand and led him to the right side of her home where she had a dart board on her wall.

"Fancy a wager?" Mistel asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Hmm...what kind of wager?" Beatrice asked cautiously, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"If I win, I'd like a kiss," Mistel said boldly, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips to match the mischievous glint in his eye.

Beatrice felt her cheeks heat slightly again and sputtered, "B-but we already kissed!"

"I'd like a better kiss," Mistel returned.

"Fine," she huffed. "You are never satisfied, are you?"

"I did warn you," Mistel said, giggling slightly.

"What do you have in your pockets?" Beatrice questioned suddenly, narrowing her eyes again.

"Only my handkerchief," Mistel replied with a nervous laugh.

"Let me see, empty them out," Beatrice said firmly, taking a step closer to him.

"I would rather not," Mistel said, his voice wavering.

"And why is that?" Beatrice questioned, crossing her arms under her chest and giving him a pointed look.

"I just would rather not, is all," Mistel attempted to say frankly, but she knew him too well. She could hear the nervous quiver in his voice; no matter how subtle it was, or how much he tried to hide it.

Instead of asking him again Beatrice lunged forward and stuck her hands in his pockets. One was empty and the other held his handkerchief like he said, but she could feel something wrapped inside it. She quickly removed it from his pocket and looked to his face to see that it had turned horror-stricken.

She undid the wrapped handkerchief to see what it was concealing: a condom. She felt her whole face turn red but before she could ask him why he had it Mistel quickly said, "I swear I had no intention of attempting to seduce you tonight! Iris insisted I take it. Goodness, please do not think of me that way. Iris is just very serious about protected sex. No matter how many times I insisted that it was not needed she wouldn't listen. She wouldn't let me leave without one. In fact, she wanted me to take three. I told her she was being absolutely absurd." Mistel sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away for a moment.

Beatrice felt her flush slowly fade and began to laugh hysterically. She handed the handkerchief back to a bemused looking Mistel but kept the condom in her hand. "I'm sure Iris had the best intentions in giving you this, but of course it's not needed... At least, not tonight." She had been working on her winking and gave him the best wink she could muster, which made him smile and laugh.

"What are you going to do with that?" Mistel wondered, cocking his head slightly to the side.

"I'm going to put it in my bedside drawer, where I believe most people keep them," Beatrice said saucily with a hand on her hip.

She strode over to the other side of her house and opened her beside drawer, unceremoniously tossing the condom in it. When she returned to Mistel he asked, "So, what would you like if you win?"

"Hmm... I think I'd like for you to sleepover," Beatrice said, smirking. When she saw that he had a confused look upon his face she said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to try to seduce you, either. I just like to sleep next to you. I sleep better. You're so warm, I'd like to wrap myself around you without feeling weird about it. The last two times I slept next to you I couldn't help but to feel slightly awkward, but now that we're dating I don't think it would be awkward in the least, do you?"

Mistel quickly shook his head. He said, "No, I don't believe it would be awkward at all. I suspect Iris is thinking that I'm sleeping over anyway. Sounds like a fair bet to me. Shall we play now?" He grinned.

"Sure, would you like to go first?" Beatrice asked, smiling sweetly.

"I think the birthday girl should go first," Mistel said in a teasing tone as he strolled over to the dart board to collect the three darts. When he returned to Beatrice he handed them to her and said with a small wink, "Good luck."

Beatrice held two of the darts in her left hand while she held the other in her right. She eyed the dart board carefully and slightly stuck her tongue out of her mouth. She held the dart between her thumb and pointer finger and swung it back and forth a couple of times before aiming and quickly throwing it.

She hit eighteen points and groaned. _Not too bad, but not too great, either._ She did the same with the second dart and hit sixty. She jumped up and down for a second, then looked to Mistel who had a huge smirk on his face; looking at her like she was the only person in the world, or at least the only person who mattered.

She felt her heart skip a beat, then beat so quickly she could hear it pounding in her ears. Her cheeks turned a pink hue and she aimed her last dart, then threw it hard. It landed on seven. She frowned and looked to Mistel, who was still smirking. "How many rounds are we playing?"

"How many would you like to play?" he asked as he retrieved the darts.

"Two, since you threw me off my game that round," Beatrice replied, still frowning.

"How so?" Mistel wondered when he returned to standing next to her.

"You were looking at me... I don't know, with such love? It messed me up," she grumbled.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'll try not to look at you next round," Mistel chucked. "It's just so very hard not to when you look so stunning!"

"Oh, just shut up and throw the darts!" she spat. She usually wasn't a sore loser, but she thought this was the only game she'd be able to beat him at.

Mistel held the two darts behind his back with his right hand and used his left to aim the other dart. Beatrice was slightly surprised. She had no idea he was left handed. She watched him intently as he threw the dart, which landed on fifty, a bullseye. He turned his head toward her and smiled so wide she feared he'd split his face in two. She stuck her tongue out at him and gave a small huff.

Mistel threw the second dart and landed a bullseye again, and then the same with the third. Beatrice gaped at him as he fetched the darts from the board again. "How are you so good?" she asked in astonishment.

"Years and years of practice, my dear," Mistel replied with a sweet smile. She scowled at his smile, which only made him laugh. "Your scowl is truly adorable!"

"Just give me the darts," she muttered, and grabbed them from his hand, "and don't look at me this time."

This time Beatrice scored one-hundred and sixty, only twenty points away from a perfect score. She gave Mistel a smug look and he said with a bright smile, "Congratulations, my love! That's a wonderful score!"

When it was Mistel's turn she stared at him the whole time, attempting to catch his eye and throw him off his game. She failed. He scored a perfect one-hundred and eighty.

Beatrice groaned loudly then scoffed. " _Ugh!_ I thought I finally found a game I could beat you at!"

Mistel frowned and hugged her, tenderly kissing her forehead. He mumbled against it, "I'm sorry you lost, but I'm positive with more practice you'll surely beat me in no time."

He pulled away slightly but kept his arms around her waist, smiling at her frowning face. "So I suppose you would like your kiss now?" she said a little bitterly.

Mistel grabbed her hand, asking, "Would you care to join me on the sofa?"

She nodded her head and he led her over to her sofa. They sat and Mistel put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned her head against his.

"I'm sorry...for acting like that," Beatrice sighed after a minute. "I didn't mean to be such a sore loser. I just really thought I could win this game."

"It's perfectly fine," Mistel said. "It is your birthday, I would be upset if I lost on my birthday... Well, unless you won. I love seeing how you light up when you win a game. Your smug smile, your joyful expression...I hate to lose, but for some reason when I lose against you it's better than winning. Just seeing how happy you are when you win is enough to make me feel like I have won, too."

"No, it's not fine. I never want to be known as a sore loser," Beatrice uttered. Her cheeks turned scarlet as she whispered, "And... I didn't know that. That's the sweetest thing I ever heard. Congratulations, darling. You did great." She leaned up slightly and kissed his cheek, then laid her head back on his shoulder.

They sat in comfortable silence for awhile, Beatrice relishing Mistel's warmth. She felt so content next to him, so peaceful. She jumped slightly when she felt his hand on her knee. She heard Mistel chuckle. He began to trace small circles on her knee with his fingertips, then went a little further down to her upper thigh. If he went any further she was going to grab his hand and scold him, but he didn't. She let out a small sigh of relief.

Mistel huskily mumbled near her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "I've never seen you with your hair down before. It's very beautiful."

Her breath hitched in her throat and she stammered, "T-thank you."

Mistel ran his fingers through her chocolate-colored locks then gently pushed her hair over the other side of her shoulder. She could hear his heart beat speeding up as he did so. He hoarsely asked, "May I kiss you now?"

Beatrice sat up straight and sputtered, "Uh, yes, sure, go ahead."

She turned her head to his but he gently grabbed her chin and tilted it up and to the opposite direction. Her heart started to beat rapidly in her chest as he continued to trace circles with his fingertips on her thigh. She gave a small gasp when she felt his lips on her neck. He slowly kissed his way up to her ear, his voice wavering as he softly asked, "Is this all right?"

"Yes," Beatrice breathed. "But I thought you were going to kiss me."

"This is technically a kiss," Mistel said teasingly, then gently blew in her ear, causing her to tremble to the very ends of her finger tips.

He gently bit on her earlobe, making her squirm, before going back to kissing her neck. She felt like her nerve endings were hypersensitive, as every tender kiss he planted on her neck felt electrifying.

Beatrice moaned softly and Mistel gently squeezed her thigh. He started to kiss her neck as if he was kissing her lips, and every once in awhile he would nip and suck on her throbbing pulse.

Beatrice began to feel feverish, and her heart was beating so quickly she feared it might jump right from her chest. She couldn't take it any longer. She needed to feel his lips on hers. She pulled away and put her hands on either sides of Mistel's face. She noticed that his breathing was ragged and that his violet eyes were darker than usual, full of lust but glistening in love and adoration.

He looked slightly confused, but only for a moment as Beatrice firmly pressed her lips to his. She immediately opened his mouth with hers and started to fiercely kiss him. Mistel seemed to be in shock for a moment, for his whole body went still. After a second Beatrice felt his body relax, and he started to move his mouth with hers.

Beatrice stopped kissing him so mercilessly when she realized that Mistel wasn't matching her, but instead was kissing her slowly, steadily—far more sweeter than she was kissing him. She willed herself to calm down. They weren't wild animals—although she did feel carnal desire running relentlessly through her veins—they were lovers, they were best friends. She didn't want him thinking that she only wanted him for sex.

In truth, she needed him. She needed him to stay by her side, to make her laugh after a long day of work, to make her smile even when all she wanted to do was frown, to make her blush when he teased her, to make her happy even when she felt like crying. He was the only person who was capable of doing those things, and she wasn't about to jeopardize that even if every cell in her body was screaming at her to kiss him like he'd never been kissed before.

Once she started to match his rhythm she began to feel light headed. Was it from lack of oxygen? She exhaled slowly through her nose. No, that wasn't it. It was a foreign feeling, one she hadn't experienced before. She had never kissed so slowly, so sensually. It had always been so lustful in her past, no sign of love from either party. She found herself enjoying this kiss much more than any other kiss she'd ever experienced.

It was pure bliss; it was love.

Beatrice moved her one hand to Mistel's blond locks, entwining her fingers in them. She pulled his head to the side slightly to deepen their kiss, which made Mistel make a moaning noise in the back of his throat. The noise made her feel a warmth pool in the pit of her stomach, and it took every bit of self control she had not to straddle him and kiss him so passionately that it would probably give him a heart attack.

Beatrice felt tears well in her eyes. _Oh no, oh please no._ She could feel Mistel slowly running his fingers through her hair, and was happy she had brushed it so much—his fingers didn't get caught in a single tangle. The feeling was so comforting, so relaxing. So loving.

She nearly pulled away as the tears threatened to escape. She didn't deserve to be treated so preciously. She didn't deserve such love. She didn't deserve him. He was too thoughtful, he was too kind to her. He was everything she had ever wanted in a lover, in a best friend; but was she everything he had ever wanted?

She felt a single tear escape, sliding down the side of her face and to her jawline; falling until it reached her chin. She nearly gasped when Mistel put a hand on the side of her face—of course the side which the tear had just fallen.

Beatrice felt Mistel's whole body immediately tense. He removed his lips from hers and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes frantically searching her face. He softy said, "Beatrice, my love, are you all right? Have I done something to upset you? Please, tell me what I did and I promise you'll never shed another tear because of me."

She nearly started bawling—but she wouldn't. She couldn't bear to see the pain in his beautiful eyes, she couldn't bear the thought of him thinking he had done something wrong when all he did was give her a wonderful birthday. Despite herself a few tears escaped from her eyes.

Mistel gazed into her eyes, and as she stared back she couldn't help but notice the pain in his—exactly what she didn't want to see. As she inhaled sharply a single sob racked through her body. She attempted to speak soothingly, but her voice cracked as she said, "I-I love you, Mistel. Yo-you didn't do anything wrong. I'm afraid to close my eyes, that when I wake up I'll realize this was all a dream; that you never loved me, that you'll never love me, that I was foolish to think that you could ever love someone like me."

She noticed Mistel looked slightly dumbstruck, but more so like his heart had broken the tiniest bit. He put his hands on either sides of her face and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "This isn't a dream, and if it is a dream I don't ever want to wake up," he said in a low tone. "You said something similar before, when you were drunk. What do you mean by 'someone like me'?"

She hesitated and gnawed on her bottom lip for several moments. She turned her head away slightly, miserably saying, "Someone like me. Someone who works with their hands, someone who swims in rivers and mucks barns." She lowered her voice to barely a whisper, "Someone who came from nothing. You're so high class, and I'm...nothing."

Mistel gently pulled her head back to his. She was surprised to see him beaming at her, looking like he was trying to contain his laughter. "You are so incredibly wrong," he said gently. "Goodness, Beatrice, whatever made you think I care about any of those things? I love you, I'll say it a million times if you'd like me to. I'll say it everyday for the rest of your life. If words aren't enough I'll prove it to you in any way you'd like. I love you, I will always love you. I cannot fathom ever not loving you. Please, no more tears." He leaned in and softly pressed his lips to hers for a second. "I love you, Beatrice. I love you. Nothing will ever change the way I feel about you."

Beatrice felt her heart swell with pure happiness, causing more tears to escape—but at least they were happy tears—and wrapped her arms around Mistel's torso, embracing him tightly. She hid her face in his chest, softly sobbing on his waistcoat. "I-I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm so, so sorry. I love you. I love you so much my heart aches. I love you, Mistel. I love you so, so much."

"Shh, it's all right. Please, there is no need to apologize," Mistel said softly into her hair, tracing small circles on her back with his fingertips, which immediately made her feel calm; immediately made her feel like that was where she needed to be for the rest of eternity, that nothing in the whole world could ever compare to the way he made her feel, to the way he made her so full of joy, of hope. The way he made her feel so loved. "If you ever doubt my feelings for you please don't hesitate to ask. I would never lie to you, my love. Never. We may have completely different jobs, we may come from completely different backgrounds, but that means _nothing_ to me. Absolutely nothing. Never doubt how much I care for you, how much I love everything about you.

"I have never, in my entire life, met anyone quite like you. It's not just your beauty, nor your chiming laughter, nor your adorable way of skipping everywhere you go with that brilliant smile of yours, nor your kindness, spunk, naivete. There is something inside of you, a light. Everyone you talk to you make them smile, or laugh. There's something special about you, even a fool can see that. I don't intend on _ever_ letting you go, so I hope you're ready to be held tight."

Beatrice was speechless. Her sobs quickly subsided. She laid on his chest for awhile more, unsure of what to say, what to do. She eventually whispered, "Thank you."

She suddenly realized she was wearing makeup; that her mascara had to of come off while she was weeping. She knew she eventually had to get up, but feared that when she did that she would see that she had stained Mistel's waistcoat. She wasn't sure if he would be angry with her. She froze.

"No need to thank me, those are just things a best friend learns. Things that a lover cherishes. You're so incredibly precious to me, my dear, so very, very precious to me. Are you all right now? Please, get up so I can see your adorable face. A smile wouldn't hurt, either," Mistel giggled softly. "I'd love to see your adorable dimples and freckles."

"Darling?" Beatrice asked nervously.

"Yes, my love?" She could hear a smile in his voice.

"Would you be angry with me if...um, if...I, uh, maybe got makeup on you?" Beatrice winced, awaiting a response that she would rather not hear.

"On your birthday? Of course not!" Mistel giggled so loudly that she could feel it. "Please, won't you just get up?"

Beatrice sighed heavily and reluctantly lifted her head. She looked to Mistel to see that he was trying to stifle back laughter, a huge grin adorning his face. He quickly pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped her face, his grin remaining the whole time.

"There! Now you're all clean. Can I get a smile now?" he said a bit teasingly.

She smiled faintly, and Mistel tsked and shook his head. "No, that's not the smile I want to see. Please, my dear, smile for real. A nice, big smile."

She tried again and failed. She wasn't sure why she was unable to smile her brilliant smile, as he called it.

Mistel put his arm around her shoulder again and his hand to her cheek. He leaned down slightly and softly pressed his lips to hers, kissing her like he was earlier: sweetly, slowly, and it nearly made her feel intoxicated.

After a minute, or perhaps five—she had a hard time telling how long due to feeling like she'd had four glasses of wine—Mistel pulled away and beamed at her. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out Beatrice smiled so big that she could feel her dimples.

"Now _that_ 's the smile I wanted to see!" Mistel emoted. He gently grabbed her face and firmly pressed his lips to hers for a split second. Beatrice couldn't wipe the smile off her face, and apparently neither could Mistel, as he had a face splitting grin; staring into her eyes while keeping his hands on her face.

Beatrice could have just sat there with him, gazing into each other's eyes, for the rest of her life—but she knew it had to be late by now. She gently grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands off her face, resting them on her lap. She looked over her shoulder to her grandfather clock and frowned. It was nearly eleven.

She sighed and turned her head back around. She couldn't wipe the frown off her face, and when Mistel saw it his brows knitted together. "Is something wrong, Beatrice?" he asked quickly.

"Hmm, not exactly... It's just that...it's almost eleven. That means my birthday is nearly over and you have to go home," she replied, the frown plastered to her face.

"I don't have to go home _yet_ ," Mistel protested with a small frown, then sputtered, "Un-unless you'd like me to!"

Beatrice yawned. "I'm a bit sleepy from crying, perhaps you should head home. Besides, it's quite late and I wouldn't want you to get lost in the woods," she chided mildly.

"I won't get lost in the woods," Mistel said defensively. "I could stay with you...until you fall asleep, if you would like that."

"I'm not sure..." Beatrice trailed. She was already going to be nervous about him walking home alone so late, and if he stayed longer than that would just double her anxiety.

"I could give you one last birthday present: your own personal heater," Mistel teased, beaming.

"But darling, I'd worry!" Beatrice protested.

"There's no need to worry, I'm a grown adult," he insisted. "Don't you walk home this late sometimes? I know you're more familiar with the trail, but I'm positive that if I just follow the trail I'll get home in no time. It's not like I'm going to wander off and into the woods."

" _Fine_ ," she groaned. "But just for a little bit!"

His eyes lit up, and it looked like he was trying his utmost hardest to keep a neutral expression on his face. "Wonderful! This way you won't be freezing on your birthday night. Why don't you wear pajama pants in Winter? You must own a pair, no?"

"I, uh, don't particularly like to wear pants to bed. It's uncomfortable," Beatrice explained as she stood, yawning again.

"You have the most adorable yawn," Mistel said, his neutral expression cracking as a small smile spread across his lips.

"Thanks," Beatrice said dryly as she walked to her dressing room, although her cheeks turned a pink hue.

She could hear Mistel laughing behind her and turned around to say fiercely, "No peeking! I mean it, Mistel!"

"I am not a pervert, Beatrice. I'm not going to sneak into your dressing room!" he called after her.

As she closed the door behind her she could hear him saying, "Unless you'd like me to." She rolled her eyes, but felt her lips twitch into a lopsided smile. She shook her head in amusement. He really was something else...but in a good way.

She quickly threw off her dress and kicked off her flats. She was about to unhook her bra, but hesitated. She never slept in a bra. For one, it was uncomfortable, and for another, she knew it wasn't good for you...but she wasn't sure about how comfortable she was not wearing a bra and falling asleep with Mistel there. Not that she thought he would try anything while she was asleep—besides, she was a very light sleeper—but because she thought her nipples would show through the light sleep shirt, and that would probably cause her face to ignite in flames.

She thought about it for a minute before deciding _to hell with it._ She quickly unhooked her bra, tossed it to the ground, then threw her blue night shirt over her head. She inhaled sharply when she noticed how short it was. She really hoped Mistel would steer clear from her legs and only stick to her back if he wanted to trace circles on her.

When she emerged from her dressing room she thought Mistel had left without saying goodbye, but then saw that he was already laying on her bed, his boots already off. With a small smile on her face she strolled over to him, her footsteps making a plopping noise on the wooden flooring. Mistel turned his head toward the noise and smiled from ear to ear. "You do have quite beautiful legs, my love. They go on for miles," Mistel said, a mischievous smirk spreading across his lips as he looked her up and down.

Her cheeks turned scarlet. She crawled into her bed next to him, and Mistel wrapped her bedspread around them. She snuggled up close to him, laying her head on his chest and entwining her legs with his. She wrapped her arm around his torso and let out a small sigh of pleasure. He was so warm, so soft.

She heard Mistel chuckle, "I can see every adorable freckle on your face! I think I'll count them while you sleep."

She felt her blush deepen and wondered how many times he'd made her blush today. She leaned her head up slightly to look at his face, saying in a low tone, "Thank you, darling, for giving me such a great birthday. And for the wonderful gift. I..." She hesitated. "I just wanted to let you know that kiss was the best I've ever had. I've never been kissed like that before... It was so sweet and full of love, unlike other kisses I've received. So thank you, you've made me so happy knowing you love me more than you lust for me."

Mistel's face softened again as his adorable blush appeared, his eyes warm and so full of love. "That was the best kiss I've ever had as well. I'm so thrilled that I made you feel that way, because it's true. My love for you will always overrule my lust for you, Beatrice. I love you, my dear, now please get some rest. You have hard work to do in the morning."

Beatrice laid her head against his chest again and smiled. She said softly, "I love you so much, darling. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my love. I love you more than you'll ever be able to comprehend," Mistel whispered.

Beatrice felt her heart swell with pure bliss. She hoped one day she would deserve to be loved so much.

Mistel began to take turns tracing circles on her back and softly running his fingers up and down her back, and she let out a small yawn. She murmured sleepily, "I love the feeling of you doing that; it's so comforting. Promise me you'll leave as soon as I fall asleep."

"I wasn't aware you enjoyed it so much. I just like to do it so I can touch you, but now that I know you enjoy it I'll do it more often," Mistel said quietly. "And I promise, now shush and close your eyes. Goodnight, my dear."

"Goodnight, darling."

Beatrice closed her eyes, relishing Mistel's warmth as her breathing evened out. She'd never felt so happy in her entire life in the moment. She quickly drifted off to sleep, feeling Mistel caressing her back and knowing that the man she loved more than anything loved her more than anything back. She couldn't of asked for a better birthday—it was perfect.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Hello! ^.^ This chapter is Mistel's yellow flower event. Tweaked, of course. I really hope you enjoy it! I'm still noticing not as many reviews as I used to get :( Which makes me sad. So if you're reading, please review! Reviews make me so incredibly overjoyed! Small warning, at the end it's slightly risque. Only slightly, though, so no worries!_

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

Mistel had accidentally fallen asleep the prior night. He had been tired, and although extraordinarily elated that he had given Beatrice a wonderful birthday, he still couldn't help but to close his eyes for a couple of minutes after counting her freckles until he lost count. She was sleeping soundly and had started to snore hardly five minutes after closing her eyes, and he thought that if he had closed his eyes for just a moment before his long walk back home he would feel rejuvenated and be able to tackle the lengthy trail without dragging his feet on the ground.

Instead he had found out that not only Beatrice fell asleep more quickly when he was laying with her, but that he also fell asleep far easier than usual with her by his side. He drifted off only two minutes after closing his eyes. He couldn't help himself. He loved the feeling of her wrapped around him; it was so incredibly comforting.

He had awoken with a start in the morning. Beatrice had frantically shook him awake, her face slightly horror-stricken. She had scolded him mildly, saying that he had promised to leave right after she fell asleep. He had apologized and said it was a simple mistake, not something to make such a big fuss over.

After he said that Beatrice seemed to calm down. She had given him a shy smile and gave him a sweet good morning kiss. Her only concern was that the villagers would find out and think of them differently, that they had slept—well, had sex, since they did technically sleep together—after only dating for a short while. He had laughed and assured her that no one would notice, and even if they did that their personal business was of no one's concern but their own.

Beatrice had blushed and nodded her head, then excused herself to get changed and freshen up. When she returned she was in her usual farming dress and her brunette hair was back in its usual ponytail. He'd tried his best not to frown. After seeing how radiant she looked with her hair down he wanted nothing more than for it to always be down; elegantly cascading down her back in soft, beautiful waves. But he knew that was impracticable considering how she had hard labor to do, and he had no doubt it would get in her way—besides, he'd rather keep the sight of her stunning hair to himself.

Mistel was glad he didn't work Tuesdays, as Beatrice insisted on making him breakfast. Before she had done that, though, she laughed loudly and told him that his hair was all messed up. She had grabbed her brush and giggled the whole time she brushed down his blond locks. He couldn't help himself while she was doing it, it was quite adorable and he had ended up smiling like a loon while she did it. She was so gentle, and the feeling was very comforting to him.

As they ate the delicious breakfast Beatrice had prepared they laughed and talked the entire time. The whole thing—the night, the morning—made Mistel feel like they were married, which only made him feel even more ecstatic. He had tried not to grin too much while they ate, but he found it difficult. He had felt as if he was dreaming, or perhaps had traveled into his ideal future. It had been too good to be true.

Yet it had been true, no matter how good it felt. After breakfast they had washed the dishes together—which only made him feel that much more overjoyed—then Beatrice said she had to get to work. Before she did, though, she helped him pack his basket from the night before by putting his dining ware back in it. Afterward she had flushed and looked to the ground for a moment, shuffling her feet. When she looked back at him she had a bashful expression upon her face, then said in a low tone that she had completely forgotten about Valentine's Day yesterday due to her birthday, but had a whole chocolate cake she'd made two days ago that she meant to give him before he even came over for her birthday.

Mistel had giggled at her embarrassment and told her that it was no problem at all. While he put his boots on Beatrice placed the chocolate cake delicately in his basket. When he was standing next to her again she had smiled so large her dimples showed and said happy belated Valentine's Day. She had handed him the basket and quickly planted a chaste kiss on his lips before saying goodbye. She had waved as he walked off her farm and called after him to have a great day off, then thanked him once more for such a great birthday and wonderful gift.

Mistel couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he walked home that morning. He had run into Agate almost as soon as he left Beatrice's farm. Agate had said good morning, then asked what he was doing so far up on the mountain trail—that she'd never seen him so far up it before. He didn't want to embarrass Beatrice, but he couldn't lie. How could he say he was just visiting Beatrice when it was so early and he had a basket in his hand?

So he told Agate the truth, that he had fallen asleep at Beatrice's by accident. Agate looked a tad bit shocked for a moment, but quickly composed herself. She had smiled faintly and told him she hoped he had a wonderful night for Beatrice's birthday, then said she had to check on the woodland creatures and hastily excused herself. He could have sworn she sounded a little bit bitter, or perhaps jealous—which just confused him, but he was so happy he hadn't felt like contemplating it.

Mistel now sat at his dining area with Iris having tea. Iris was having a slice of the cake Beatrice had made him and was humming in satisfaction as she ate it. He decided not to have any. He wanted to surprise Beatrice in an hour or so and take her on a proper date at the restaurant for dinner, even if it meant he would have to walk all the way back up the mountain trail to her farm.

"So, are you _sure_ nothing happened last night?" Iris asked, raising an eyebrow at him, then taking a sip of tea.

"Yes, Iris, for the tenth time nothing happened. We just had a wonderful night, and I fell asleep by accident," Mistel returned, sighing heavily.

"I see. So where is the condom I gave you?" Iris wondered with a sly smile.

"Thank you for that, sister. It caused me much embarrassment. Beatrice found it... I could have died. Fortunately—after telling me we were not having sex tonight—she laughed hysterically and brushed the whole thing off. After I explained to her why I had it, of course," Mistel said, taking a sip of his own tea.

"So, where is it now?" Iris inquired. "Also, tell Bee what a wonderful baker she is! This cake is absolutely delicious!"

"I'll make sure to tell her," he muttered. "And she has it. She took it from me and put it in her bedside table's drawer."

"Oh, did she now?" Iris said while raising both of her eyebrows. "I can respect that. Bee knows how to say no and take things into her own hands. I really hadn't expected that from her. Honestly, when you didn't come home last night I thought...well, I thought you were doing a lot more than just sleeping." Iris gave a short laugh.

"You always think the worst of her—and me—sister," Mistel chided, narrowing his eyes slightly. "We've only been dating for a short time. I have my hormones in check, I'm not some horny teenager anymore. We have yet to discuss it, but I think we're going to take things slow. I don't truly understand why you gave me a condom in the first place... Vaginal intercourse doesn't come first... There are many other bases before that. Please don't speak about her as if she's just simply around to take care of my urges. She's the most wonderful woman I've ever met. She makes me extremely happy."

"That's all that matters, Mistel," Iris said softly, her violet eyes glistening slightly. "All I want for you is happiness."

Iris continued, "Also, I gave you the condom just in case. Sometimes things get a little more heated than you expected it to get, and you know how I feel about protection. I know Bee is clean, but can you imagine her getting pregnant at this age? She just turned twenty!"

Mistel held his tongue. Although he did want to be married before having children, he still wanted to get married in a year or less. "Point well made, Iris. And I do have happiness. I'm the happiest I've ever felt before in my entire life," Mistel said sternly. "Does that satisfy you?"

"More than you'll ever be able to understand," Iris retorted. "Your happiness means much, much more to me than my own."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. He took a long sip of tea to think of something to say. After a few minutes he said softly, "Thank you, Iris, that was very sweet of you to say...but I do care about your happiness, as well. How are you?"

"Hmm? What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine," Iris said frankly, but her voice cracked slightly.

"I meant with the whole Klaus situation," he sighed. "Did you cry yourself to sleep last night again?"

"No, I did not," Iris said firmly. "The Klaus situation is moot. I'd like to forget about him all together. I'd rather not think of him ever again."

"So...you don't think you'll ever be friends again?" Mistel wondered.

"Not in the near future, no," Iris replied. She changed the subject. "How did Bee like her gift?"

"She said it was the best gift she had ever received," Mistel said, smiling brightly.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Iris emoted, returning his smile. "I just knew she would love it!"

"You were correct. She looked absolutely dumbstruck when she opened the wrapping paper. She did protest that it had to of cost too much money, but I told her not to worry about the money. Apparently she doesn't come from a very good upbringing. From what I could gather she grew up rather poor. Did you know that?" Mistel asked. He thought that even though she'd been embarrassed to tell him, that perhaps she'd told Iris.

"Oh, no, I didn't," Iris said, frowning slightly. "How sad. I can't imagine growing up poor. It must have been rough, especially with so many siblings...but at least she's here now, and although I know she doesn't need you to take care of her you can still buy her nice things, things she's never had before."

"She deserves to be dressed in silk and satin," he said seriously. "Her night shirt looks as if it's five years old. She should be sleeping in a beautiful silk nightgown, not some rag."

Iris laughed loudly. "Take her to the city and buy her things, then, if that's what you think she deserves and wants. Although I doubt she'll be farming in evening ware."

"Well, of course not! She would wear the clothes after she has finished her work for that day, preferably for me when we go on dates," Mistel said, rolling his eyes.

"You're so very protective over her, brother," Iris scolded. "It's all right to be a little protective, but if you don't stop smothering her you very well may lose her."

Mistel shook his head frantically to get the horrible thought out. "No, I refuse to let her go," he said fiercely. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep her by my side. She's not only my lover, sister. She's my best friend. She loves me dearly. If she has a problem I'm positive she will tell me, and I'll fix it. She isn't the type of girl to just leave me without an explanation."

"All right, all right," Iris said hastily. "I'm just warning you, brother. Girls like a lot of attention—especially Bee—but smothering her will only drive her away. I couldn't stand to see you break your own heart."

"I promise, Iris, I'm not smothering her," Mistel said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. "I told her from the very beginning to be ready to be held tight, because I don't intend on ever letting her go."

"I believe you. I have no doubt that you'd swim across oceans for her. Just be careful. This is your first real love, and I know it's exciting and intense but you must be mindful of your actions," Iris warned. "You're almost always mindful of your words, so there's no need to worry about that. Just be...careful. I know you want her to be the most happiest woman alive, but what about you? Don't you want to be happy?"

"Her happiness is my happiness, sister," Mistel muttered. "As long as she's smiling I'm smiling. Is that too hard for you to comprehend?"

"I'm not an idiot," Iris scoffed, also crossing her arms. "If your happiness is her happiness then make sure she's happy."

"I intend to," he said calmly, uncrossing his arms. "You should have seen how utterly gorgeous she looked last night. It was truly a sight to see. And for my eyes only. Although, I must admit, my eyes did wander a bit every once in awhile... I couldn't help it! Her dress was cut so low..."

Iris giggled, "You're only human, Mistel! It's a natural reaction to look when seeing the one you love dressed like that. It only becomes a problem if you make her feel uncomfortable, or do something without her permission. I take it you had to muster up all your will to look her in the eye as much as possible?"

"Correct. It was difficult, but I think I accomplished the task well," Mistel said with a mischievous smirk, feeling quite pleased with himself. It had been difficult to look her in the eye all night. Admittedly, he had a few slip-ups, but he just couldn't help himself. Beatrice's breasts looked so perfect in her dress. If they had been dating for a longer time he would have asked her to touch them; they looked so soft, like pillows.

He had been none too pleased with himself last night, as he kept thinking about how much he wanted to feel them; to feel all of her. A small part of him felt giddy by the thought. He truly hated to admit it to himself, but he could hardly wait until they were dating long enough, or more comfortable with one another, for him to be able to feel all her curves and soft skin. He knew she had quite a spectacular body from hearing Iris say so, but he didn't fully understand just how outstanding it was until he saw her in that dress last night.

Iris was right, he was only human. If he hadn't of looked at least a couple of times it would have been absurd. Actually, now that he thought about it, it would have been nearly impossible. He couldn't help that his eyes naturally wandered to beautiful things. In a way, it was a good thing. He was able to spot gorgeous antiques with his eyes—not that he was comparing Beatrice to antiques. He did love antiques, but his love for Beatrice didn't even compare.

"Well, it sounds like you had a great night," Iris said as she stood, breaking him out of his slightly dirty thoughts. "I'm very happy for you. Now, I must get back to writing after I cleanup."

Mistel looked to his grandfather clock to see it was one-fifteen. If he wanted to take Beatrice to dinner then he knew he had to leave now. It would take him at least forty minutes to walk up the trail, and then they would have to walk all the way back down. By the time they arrived at the restaurant it would a perfect time for dinner, since it would be so early they could be alone before the dinner rush came in.

"I must be going, thank you for the tea," Mistel said, standing. "I thought it would be nice to take Beatrice on a proper date, so I'm going to take her to the restaurant for dinner."

As he walked down the staircase Iris called after him, "Good luck! And remember what I said!"

He rolled his eyes again. He knew she was just trying to give him advice, but she could be such a nag sometimes.

Mistel was surprised that the walk up the mountain trail wasn't nearly as hard as it was when he first started doing it. He smiled to himself as he walked. Although it was a bit cold, at least it was sunny out. He hoped that was a good omen.

As he reached the wooded area his hands began to tremble slightly. He willed them to stop, but they just wouldn't listen. _Why am I so nervous?_ He blamed Iris and all the things she said.

Right before he reached Beatrice's farm he stopped dead in his tracks. Beatrice was skipping from her farm and down the trail. He immediately felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest when he saw her, and smiled from ear to ear.

Beatrice looked slightly taken aback when she saw him and stopped skipping. After a moment a shy smile spread across her face and she reached for her ponytail, pulling it over her shoulder and frantically running her hands through her brunette locks.

Mistel said cheerfully, "Oh, good! I'm glad we didn't miss each other along the way. I was just on my way to see you!"

"Hmm? Oh, were you? Why?" Beatrice asked in a teasing tone, her smile widening.

Mistel beamed and laughed, "Why? To ask you out on a date, of course! Why else?"

He watched as a small blush crept up her face. She stammered, "O-oh, I see."

"If you have other plans, I won't intrude," Mistel said earnestly, although he really hoped she didn't have any other plans. "But if you don't, would you care to join me for dinner?"

Beatrice nodded her head enthusiastically, then said in her usual singsong voice, "I'd love to!"

Mistel beamed at her again. He said with evident mirth in his tone, "I thought you might say that. Come on, let's go."

She gave a small nod and he held out his hand. She let go of her hair to take it, and they began to stroll down the trail. He immediately felt a mixture of calmness and feeling like he had butterflies dancing wildly in his stomach once their skin touched. He wondered if she felt the same.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Mistel broke it to say, "Iris wanted me to tell you that you're a great baker. She tried your cake and she loves it."

"Oh? Tell her I said thank you," Beatrice said timidly, looking to the ground as they walked. Her cheeks turned a pink hue as she squeaked, "You didn't try any?"

Mistel felt his lips twitch into a smirk. He said, "I intend to tonight. I didn't want to ruin my appetite before dinner."

"I see," Beatrice whispered. She looked into his eyes—causing his heart to flutter—and said, "Please let me know how you like it once you've tried it."

Mistel stammered, "O-of course, my love."

Beatrice smiled brightly and continued to stare into his eyes with her smoldering ruby ones. He felt his heart skip a beat. Why did her eyes have to be so mesmerizing? Why did they have to be so beautiful? Most of all, why couldn't he look away?

As they passed through the riverside pasture he willed himself with all his strength to look away and to the river on his right. He gave her hand a small squeeze and asked, "So, how was work?"

"Long and hard," Beatrice sighed. "But at least it's over now, and I get to go on a date with you. That makes my day ten times better." Even without looking at her he could hear a smile in her voice.

"I'm so happy to hear that!" Mistel emoted, sucking it up and looking back at her. "Anything that I do to make your day better makes me feel elated."

Beatrice looked bashfully to the ground again, her cheeks turning redder by the second. Mistel admired her blush, noticing a ghost of a smile on her lips. He could hardly believe how adorable she was, and to make matters better, she was his. He had to keep reminding himself that—he still had a hard time believing it. Why would someone so amazing, so adorable, agree to be his? He didn't know; he didn't care. All that mattered to him was that he was hers and she was his, and that they were happy. He was so, so happy.

When they reached the restaurant he really didn't want to let go of her hand. He held on to it tightly and stared blankly at the restaurant's door. Beatrice gave him a strange look. She said, "Uhh...darling? I'm afraid you're going to have to let go now."

"Must I, though? I love holding your hand," he said, and even he could hear a hint of desperation in his tone.

"I'm afraid you must," Beatrice said, grinning.

"If I _must_ ," Mistel sighed.

He reluctantly let go, then opened the door for Beatrice. He walked in after her, then closed the door behind him. Raeger smiled and greeted them, "Good afternoon, lovebirds. What can I get you two tonight?"

Mistel could have sworn his eyes lingered on Beatrice and felt a small wrath begin to build within him. He wasn't sure, though, so he took a deep breath to calm himself. "The usual for me, thank you, Raeger," Mistel said flatly. He looked to Beatrice and asked, "And for you, my love?"

"Stew, please," Beatrice said, smiling sweetly. "Thank you, Raeger."

"Coming right up! Please take a seat, I'll bring it over when it's finished," Raeger said, gesturing with his hand for them to sit.

Mistel grabbed Beatrice's hand and led her over to one of the tables in the front. He was right, the restaurant was empty. He let go of her hand and pulled her chair out for her. She carefully tucked her skirt underneath her as she sat, and he pushed in her chair.

"Thank you, darling," Beatrice said in a low tone as he walked over to his own chair, her cheeks turning scarlet.

Mistel sat down and gave her a lopsided smile. "You're welcome, Beatrice." He giggled slightly and asked, "Why are you blushing? All I did was push in your chair for you!"

"It was cute, I'm sorry," Beatrice whispered, her eyes glued to the table.

"Never apologize for blushing, my dear! Something so adorable doesn't need an apology!" he exclaimed, giggling a little louder.

Beatrice's blush deepened as she continued to stare at the table, nodding her head slowly. He was confused as to why she was so embarrassed. He knew he had a tendency to make her blush often, but he had just simply pushed her chair in for her. He wondered if it was because they were in public.

"You are allowed to look at me, you know?" Mistel teased.

Beatrice immediately looked up from the table and into his eyes, fluttering her lush lashes. He immediately regretted saying anything. He felt a ball form in his throat. He swallowed hard in a vain attempt to get it out.

"So, uh, you look very stunning tonight," he eventually managed to say, though it was hoarse.

"And you look very handsome," Beatrice returned. She gave him a small smile.

"Are you hungry?" Mistel asked after a minute.

"Oh, I'm famished!" Beatrice emoted, her smile widening.

"Wonderful! It should be out any—"

Mistel cut himself off, as Raeger was standing next to their table with their dishes in hand. He carefully placed Beatrice's in front of her, then did the same with Mistel's. "Enjoy!" Raeger said before heading back to his kitchen.

They began to eat. Mistel ate his meal slowly, and after a few moments looked up at Beatrice to see that she was scarfing down her food as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. She hummed in satisfaction as she ate, not even bothering to look up from her dish.

Mistel felt a little irritated. They were on a date, shouldn't they be talking? He masked his irritation with a sweet smile and said, "Goodness, you certainly seem to be enjoying that!"

Beatrice came up for air and said happily, "Oh, yes, I am! It's very delicious!"

He was happy to see her enjoying herself so much, although he wished she would pay a little more attention to him. He beamed at her while he said, "Simply watching you is enough for me to feel as if I've had a full meal myself."

Beatrice smiled shyly. She said timidly, "Well, I'm with you..."

Mistel was taken aback for a moment. He wasn't expecting that answer. He couldn't wipe his bright smile off his face as he said, "Being with me makes the meal taste better to you? Goodness, you say the most adorable things!

"If that's the case, then I suppose I _have_ to forgive you for being so absorbed in your meal!"

Beatrice tilted her head slightly, giving him the most perplexing of looks. "Hmm?"

"You hadn't noticed?" he asked with a neutral expression. "Since the food arrived, you've paid far more attention to it than to me."

Beatrice looked panicked. She frantically said, "Oh, goodness! I'm so, so sorry darling!"

Mistel felt his lips curl into a large smile. She even looked adorable when panicking. He said frankly, "No, it's all right! From what you said a moment ago, I'm sure you hadn't forgotten me. You still felt my presence, which is sweet!"

His face regained his usual neutral expression as he chided mildly, "Though I must admit, it isn't very pleasant to feel so ignored for so long. Please try to be a bit more cognizant of that, if you would."

Beatrice's face flushed. She said bashfully, "Yes, of course darling... I wouldn't want to feel ignored, either."

Mistel watched as she began to eat her meal more slowly, looking up every other bite and smiling. He smiled back at her as she finished eating.

Once she was done she pushed her plate to the side and sang, "All done!"

He gave a small laugh. "For some reason, I feel like I've just been effectively cajoled into doing what you want. But the truth is, I'm not entirely certain I mind!"

Beatrice looked confused again and asked, "What do you mean?"

Mistel laughed nervously. He beamed as he sputtered, "...N-never mind. I said nothing! ...Anyway, you have a smear of sauce on your cheek."

"Oh? I do?" Beatrice squeaked. "I, uh, don't have a napkin..."

Mistel couldn't stop smiling. "Sheesh. You are such a handful." He stood and walked over to the side of her chair. He said, "Here, I'll wipe it off for you. Hold still..."

Beatrice looked panicked again. He looked over to Raeger to see he was looking at them. Or was he looking at Beatrice? A magnificent idea popped into his head. With his big smile still plastered on his face he said mostly to himself, "Hrm. You know, this might be the perfect opportunity..."

"Hmm?" Beatrice hastened to ask.

Mistel felt his smile widen—which he didn't think was possible—and said sweetly, "Pardon me."

He leaned down and kissed the sauce off of her face. Beatrice looked shocked. He quickly said, "There, it's all cleaned off. I'm sorry, but I forgot my handkerchief today, you see."

Beatrice's whole face turned red as she stammered, "Oh, uh, um, er..."

Mistel said in his usual demure tone, "At any rate, since we've finished our meals, we should probably be on our way. Let me see you home. I did invite you to this with little warning, after all. And you're a very busy person. I'm sure you have much to do."

Beatrice quickly stood and turned to him, her face still bright red, then hastily shook her head and dashed out of the restaurant.

Mistel giggled loudly as he watched her leave, "Well, I did offer to see her home! Always in such a hurry, she is..."

He placed money down on the table and left a handsome tip. As he walked toward the door he was surprised to see Raeger standing in front of his counter. Before he could leave Raeger said calmly, "Could I ask you not to show off so much in my restaurant, please? There's no way you forgot your trusty hanky."

Mistel turned to him and smiled brightly. "My apologies. I simply thought it might be a good opportunity to discourage any...onlookers...from looking on."

Raeger looked around the empty restaurant for a second, then gave him a weird look. His expression turned disgruntled as he frowned, pulling on his necktie slightly. "Okay, but don't jerk her around too much. She deserves better."

Mistel said simply, "If anyone is being led around by the nose, it's me. It feels like, no matter how carefully I plan my actions, I am constantly done in by her innocent spontaneity. And she has no idea she's doing it! Why, just a few minutes ago..." His voice trailed off as he realized what he was about to blurt out.

Raeger waited a few seconds, then said, "Hmm?"

Mistel felt his cheeks warm and his expression soften as he recalled what Beatrice had said just a few minutes ago. He hastily said, "Erm, nothing. Thank you for the delicious meal. I should be going now."

He strode out the door and quickly shut it behind him. He leaned against it and let out a small sigh. He heard Raeger laugh through the door, "Hmm. So both of them are taking advantage of the other, huh?"

Mistel then heard Raeger say, "Still, you don't get that natural of an expression out of Mistel so easily. He really should show it to Bee a bit more often."

Mistel contemplated that for a moment. Did he really not show Beatrice said expression as often as he should have? Did she even like that expression? And if she did, why hadn't she ever said she liked it? _Maybe she has, and I just never took note of it_. He decided he would try his best to show Beatrice his blush whenever it felt natural. He didn't want to force it...but he felt like perhaps before he was trying his utmost hardest not to blush. He would make sure not to hide it anymore.

Mistel was about to walk away when he heard Raeger laugh darkly. He could hear him saying hollowly to himself, "Does Mistel really think I'm looking at Bee? That I'm interested in her? That's hilarious."

Mistel felt his blood begin to boil. Why shouldn't Raeger look at her, or be interested in her? She's obviously the most gorgeous girl in town, not to mention the most wonderful, thoughtful, and intelligent.

He nearly thundered into the restaurant, but before he did he heard Raeger laugh again. "Mistel really doesn't know me at all, does he? If he did he wouldn't worry at all about me looking at her that way."

Mistel was baffled. What was that suppose to mean? Was Beatrice simply not Raeger's type? _That's impossible, a wonderful girl such as herself is everyone's type._ Or...or were women in general just not Raeger's type? He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to jump to conclusions...but how else was he suppose to interpret what Raeger had said? He knew it wasn't any of his business, but he had always been a little too curious for his own good, and now he really wanted to know what Raeger meant by that. He wasn't just going to stroll back into the restaurant and ask Raeger himself...but with enough eavesdropping and time he was positive he would be able to find out.

With a smile on his face Mistel walked down the restaurant's steps. He turned to see Beatrice out front of the inn talking to Lillie. She looked hysterical, her arms flailing around wildly, and she appeared as if she might start crying. He felt his heart sink into his stomach. What in the world could have happened to make her this way?

Mistel sprinted over to them. As soon as Lillie saw him she scoffed, "Go away! Leave Bee alone, you've upset her."

Beatrice turned her body to face him. He noticed her ruby eyes were glistening, her dark lashes beaded with tears; just begging to fall at any moment. She gaped at him for a moment then bolted toward the Piedmont area.

Mistel hadn't the slightest clue how he had upset her, but he wasn't about to just stand there like a fool and let the love of his life run away crying. As he sprinted after her he could hear Lillie yelling behind him, "Leave her be! Haven't you done enough for one night!"

 _Have I?_ He would feel a lot better if he knew what he had done to upset her. Now only a few feet away, he called after her, "Beatrice, wait! Please, stop running!"

Beatrice didn't even look behind her, nor did she slow down. Mistel ran faster and eventually caught up to her right before she entered the riverside pasture. Panting, he grabbed her from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, lifting her slightly as she squirmed and thrashed to get out of his embrace. She shouted, "Let go of me! Let me go! I'm upset, I just want to go home! You can be a real fool sometimes. Just let me go!"

"Beatrice, calm down!" he begged.

She continued to thrash herself from side to side, yelling at him to let her go. After several minutes she went limp, and soft sobs began to wrack through her body. Mistel began to panic. He gently lowered her and spun her around so she was facing him. Tears were steadily streaming down her face. He felt his heart leap into his throat.

Mistel put his hands on either sides of her face and started to wipe away her tears. He soothingly asked, "Beatrice, my love... What's wrong?"

"Y-you're an idiot," she choked, her ruby eyes glowering.

"What did I do?" he asked, completely flabbergasted.

"You embarrassed me, that's what you did! Not to mention that you have no trust in me whatsoever!" Beatrice shouted slightly, her hands in fists at her sides.

Mistel embraced her tightly for a second, then said softly, "I apologize. I hadn't meant to embarrass you. And as I said before, it's not you that I don't trust. It's the other men in town with their hungry eyes. I'm truly sorry, my dear, will you ever forgive me?"

Beatrice huffed and stomped her foot. She spat, "Why should I?"

Mistel felt his cheeks warm again and his face soften, his lips curling into a small smile. He whispered, "Because I love you, and you love me."

Beatrice rolled her ruby eyes and protested, "How can I argue with you when you're giving me that _look_."

"What look?" he tried to say as innocently as possible.

" _That_ look! When you blush and look at me like I'm the only person in the world. It's too adorable. It's unfair. It's impossible to mad at you when you're looking at me like that," she explained, then sighed loudly.

"Then forgive me, please. I promise to never embarrass you again. It wasn't my intent. Please, my love. Forgive me. I'll do anything," he nearly begged.

He watched as Beatrice shrank inside her head, seemingly contemplating whether or not to forgive him. He felt like it was years before she finally spoke. " _Fine_ ," she sighed. "I forgive you. Just never do that again, okay?"

"Okay," Mistel said with a sweet smile. "Can I make it up to you?"

"How do you plan on doing that?" Beatrice asked, sniffling.

"Thursday night, if you're free, I would like to take you back to the restaurant and not embarrass you this time," he said.

"Promise?" Beatrice asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Promise." Mistel smirked. He cupped her cheek in his hand and she leaned into it, sighing pleasurably.

After a moment Mistel asked, "Would you like for me to see you home now?"

"No thank you, darling. You hardly ate any of your dinner, and I wouldn't want you to get sick," Beatrice replied.

"If you insist, my dear. Please be careful on your way home," Mistel said, softly caressing her cheek.

"I will be," she assured him. "Goodnight, darling. I can hardly wait to see you Thursday, I'll miss you every second."

Mistel felt a small blush creep up his face and smiled. "As will I, my love. Goodnight."

He put his other hand to her cheek and leaned down slightly, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to hers. He moved his mouth slowly with hers, and began to feel slightly lightheaded. He moved his hands to her small waist, pulling her body flush against his.

Mistel tilted his head slightly to deepen their kiss, moving his lips more passionately against her soft ones. Beatrice made a deep moaning noise in the back of her throat, making him feel feverish by the sound. Their kisses steadily became more urgent, more hungry.

She was so close he could feel her breasts against his chest. It was nearly torturous. His heart was beating so incredibly fast, and he could feel her own heartbeat pounding against his chest. He wanted so badly to walk her home, to sit with her on her sofa and kiss her so passionately it would take both of their breaths away.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and attempted the impossible to pull her closer to him. _Love overrules my lust, love overrules my lust,_ he repeated the motto over and over again in his mind. It was no use; it didn't help at all. His head was so clouded by now that he thought he mine as well be intoxicated, because he sure did feel like he was.

Mistel wanted nothing more than to pull her by the hand to her house or his—whichever was closer, which he figured was his house—and caress her curves while they kissed like they had never kissed before. He wanted to pull her dress off of her, he wanted to see what her underwear looked like. He wanted to mark her, to hear her moan his name. He wanted to gently lay her down on his bed and kiss her from head to foot.

Mistel suddenly realized his shorts were far too tight and immediately stopped thinking about what he'd love to do to her. He gently released his arms from around her and tilted his hips back. He feared he might die from embarrassment if Beatrice felt just how much he wanted her.

He broke their lips apart and rested his forehead against hers. They both panted for air, and after a moment smiled at each other while gazing into one another's eyes. He noticed her ruby eyes were dark with lust. Her neck and face were flushed in desire, and he felt his shorts become a little bit tighter.

Mistel put his hand to her heated cheek and gently caressed it. He said hoarsely, "I love you, Beatrice. Goodnight."

Beatrice pressed her lips firmly to his for a second, then said just as hoarsely as he had, "I love you, darling. I hope you have a great night."

He gave her a lopsided smile and said teasingly, "Oh, I'm sure I will. I have a delicious chocolate cake waiting for me at home."

Mistel placed a tender kiss on her forehead then turned around. Before he could walk away Beatrice quickly grabbed his arm. He turned on his heel and asked, "Yes, Beatrice?"

She kept her hand firmly clasped around his arm. She looked him in the eye for a moment before fixating her eyes on the ground, tracing circles with the tip of her boot on the grass. Her face turned a deep shade of red—the reddest Mistel had ever seen her face turn—and she said reluctantly, "Mistel, I...uh, just want to say something."

Mistel put his finger under her chin and gently lifted it to meet his loving gaze. He let his hand fall and quirked an eyebrow. He said a tad bit teasingly, "Yes, my love? You can say anything to me, don't be so timid."

Beatrice averted her eyes from his and sputtered, "I, uh, just wanted to let you know that..." She murmured the rest, and he wasn't able to hear her.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I couldn't hear the last part," Mistel said softly, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Beatrice squared her shoulders, held her head up high, and looked him dead in the eye. She said boldly, "I just wanted to let you know that I..." She hesitated. She lowered her voice and continued, "That I've never wanted to be with someone as much as I want to be with you."

Mistel cocked his head to the side in confusion. He said bewilderingly, "But...but you _are_ with me."

The heat stayed in Beatrice's face as she said, "I should have worded that differently. What I meant was... I love you, and I've never wanted someone as much as I want you. Do you understand what I mean now?"

After a moment Mistel realized what she meant. _Ooh... Wait, am I dreaming?!_ He gaped at her for a minute, his mouth hanging open so far he feared that his jaw might come unhinged. As the seconds ticked by Beatrice's face slowly dropped. She hung her head and let go of his arm, then slowly turned around.

Mistel was in shock, but snapped out of it once he realized Beatrice was leaving. He took three long strides to catch up to her and gently grabbed her upper arm. She turned to him with her head still hung low, her eyes fixated on her fingers as she twiddled them.

Mistel lifted her chin again with his finger, then put his free hand on her other arm. He asked very softly, "Do you truly mean that? Or are you just telling me what I want to hear?"

Beatrice stared him straight in the eye as she said firmly, "Yes, I truly mean it. I knew I loved you...but this is a whole different kind of sensation. It's not exactly lust, but more so love mixed with lust. I love you, Mistel, and I've never felt this way before. It kind of feels like torture sometimes when we kiss too passionately...It takes every fiber of my being not to jump your bones. I've never wanted someone so much before... It's a peculiar feeling, but I like it." Beatrice's face grew redder with every word she uttered, her complexion now nearly matching the color of her eyes.

Mistel felt like jumping up and down with joy. He could hardly believe his ears. And she wasn't lying, he knew that to be true. He planted a small kiss upon her lips, then pulled away and beamed at her. He said more happily than he intended, "You have _no_ idea how happy that makes me! I love you dearly, Beatrice. Thank you for explaining that to me, because that's exactly how I feel. Love and lust mixed together... I've never desired someone as much as I desire you. It does feel like torture! When we kiss so intensely I sometimes can't help but to imagine what you would look like with just your underwear on...Goodness, you've cajoled me into doing anything you would like for the second time tonight! Soon, we must talk about this. We can't keep torturing each other, we need to figure out how quickly we want to take things. Whatever you decide I will happily oblige to your decision. It's all up to you, so think long and hard. When you're ready to talk about it, just tell me. No games, no beating around the bush, all right?"

"All right," Beatrice said, smiling from ear to ear. "Well, it's rather late now, so I suppose I should be heading home. Goodnight again, darling. I love you."

" _Au revoir, mon amour_ ," Mistel said, feeling his lips twitch into a wicked grin. "I can hardly wait for our date Thursday, my dear Beatrice. I'll meet you out front of the guild around six, if that works for you."

"Sounds perfect," Beatrice said, still smiling.

Mistel let go of her arms and gently pressed his lips to hers, kissing her sweetly and steadily. After a minute he pulled back and grinned. He gave a small wave before turning around.

"Bye, darling!" Beatrice called after him, waving frantically.

As Mistel walked home he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. _What a very strange day_. Although it had its ups and downs, at least it ended on a great note. He had a rather hard time believing Beatrice wanted him more than anyone she had ever encountered, but he wasn't about to deny her feelings. After all, he felt the same exact way.

His grin faltered as he reached his front door. He knew Iris would want to know all about his date. He sighed heavily before opening it.

As soon as he reached the top step he heard Iris's footsteps rushing over to him. She grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him slightly, asking merrily, "So? How was it? Was it great? I bet it was great!"

Mistel just shook his head and went over to the kitchen. He prepared himself a slice of cake and sat down on his turquoise sofa. He slivered off a piece with his fork and plopped it in his mouth. His eyes went wide for a moment. He couldn't believe how delicious the cake was.

Iris sat down on the other sofa and shook her head. "That bad?" she asked.

Mistel began to explain everything that had happened. The only part he left out was the very end. That was none of her concern. Iris nodded her head as he retold the night's events, sighing and patting his arm when appropriate.

When he was finished with his story and his slice of cake he stood. He placed his dish in the sink. He turned to Iris and said, "Goodnight, sister. Don't stay up too long."

Iris laughed, "I won't, I promise!"

Mistel yawned as he headed into his bedroom, locking the door behind him. He quickly changed out of his clothes and into pajamas. He looked to the clock to see it was only ten. He felt a small smile spread across his lips as he laid down and pulled the blankets over himself. He began to think about Beatrice: her lips, her beautiful face, her fantastic body. Then he allowed his thoughts to drift into more dangerous territories.

He thought about how much she wanted him, and began to fantasize about what they might do together once the time was right. With every thought his boxers became tighter. The possibilities of what they could do together, or to each other, was a long list, and he began to think of everything he knew on the subject.

Mistel was glad he kept tissues underneath his pillows. He was going to need them tonight.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Hmm...I'm sorry for taking so long to update, especially since this is a short chapter. Family issues and whatnot. You don't even want to know. Anyway, this chapter is introducing a new romance! I mostly did it for Mewsea, but I did want to add this ship into one of my fics, anyway, so it's also for me haha. Well, I hope you enjoy and review. I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but it'll do._

* * *

Mistel tapped his boot impatiently upon the ground out front of the guild. He knew it had to of least be six-fifteen by now. Beatrice was always so punctual, what was taking her so long? He was beginning to doubt how punctual she actually was. At least the shop was closed today, otherwise he would have been angry about having to close early. He knew she was a busy person, and that he was trying to make it up for her by doing this because of what happened two days ago, but he still couldn't help but to feel a tiny bit irked.

He glanced in the direction of the Piedmont area for a second, then turned his head away and huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking toward the restaurant and pouting slightly. His pout turned into a sly smile as he heard soft footsteps slowly approaching him.

Beatrice tapped him on his shoulder, and he turned around to see that she had a mischievous smile adorning her face.

He beamed at her as he giggled, "I'd know those footsteps anywhere! Hello, Beatrice."

Beatrice whined, "Aww, I was trying to sneak up on you!"

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm just too familiar with the sound of your footsteps," he said, grinning. "What kept you so long? I've been waiting here for nearly twenty minutes!"

"I'm sorry, darling. I was working and lost track of time. Can you forgive me?" Beatrice asked softly, putting her hand to his arm.

"Of course I forgive you! It's hardly a big deal, just a small nuisance," Mistel replied. "Shall we walk to the restaurant now? I'm sure you must be famished."

"Uh, yes...but before we head inside I'd like to talk to you for a moment," Beatrice said timidly, her cheeks turning a light hue of pink.

"Anything, my dear. What's on your mind?"

"I-I'm so utterly embarrassed by what I said to you the other night," Beatrice sputtered, hiding her face in her hands. "I've just been repeating what I said over and over again in my head, and screaming into my pillow. I just can't believe I said that to you..."

Mistel laughed loudly. He gently pried her hands from her face and held them close to his chest, taking a step closer to her. She looked at him with wide eyes for a second, then quickly averted them. Mistel tried not to smile as he said, "There's no need to be embarrassed! How you feel is nothing to be ashamed of. I feel the same about you, if you recall. And I'm not embarrassed, so neither should you. We're lovers now, and I very much enjoyed hearing you say those things. Don't keep a single thought from me, I want to know everything you feel. Try not to be so timid, my love, there's no need for that."

"I'll try," Beatrice murmured.

"Don't be so down!" Mistel emoted, beaming. "We're going to have a wonderful night. Please, won't you smile for me?"

Beatrice cracked a small smile. "Only if you kiss me. I believe that's a fair trade."

Mistel giggled. She always wanted a kiss in exchange for a smile, and he found that to be unbelievably adorable. And for some strange reason, it always worked.

He leaned down slightly and gently pressed his lips to hers. They stayed like that for several minutes, until Mistel heard who was undoubtedly Iris say, "Ahem. Excuse me, lovebirds, but I don't think Ms. Veronica would appreciate you two kissing out front of the guild." Iris then giggled loudly, "Get a room!"

Mistel glared at Iris as she strolled away. He looked to Beatrice to see that her face was slightly red, yet she looked as if she might burst out laughing at any moment. Instead she smiled so large that her dimples showed, and said in her usual singsong voice, "Shall we head in now? I'm awfully hungry."

"Of course," he replied with a smirk.

Mistel let go of her one hand as they made their small walk to the restaurant.

As soon as they entered the restaurant he noticed that for one, Fritz was drunk and sad, and for another, that Raeger kept smiling every time Fritz looked away; yet when Fritz looked back at him he gave his friend a reassuring look and a rub on his forearm. Mistel gestured for Beatrice to take a seat at one of the tables and leisurely strolled over to the counter. "Ahem," he said to get Raeger's attention. "Can I have the usual? For both me and Beatrice, please."

"Yeah, Mistel, it'll be ready in about five minutes," Raeger said, sounding exasperated.

"Excellent. No need to bring it to us, I'll come over and fetch it once it's done. You just console your... _friend."_ He exaggerated the last word, causing Raeger to scowl at him. Mistel causally walked over to where Beatrice had chosen to sit, taking his seat opposite of her, then as discreetly as he could looked in the direction of Fritz and Raeger.

"No wonder I got rejected, I'm so homely," Fritz sighed heavily, crying slightly.

"No you're not," Raeger nearly growled.

"Yes I am!" Fritz boomed, then sighed lamentably with his head hung low. "Can I get a glass of wine?"

"Sure, Fritz," Raeger replied, ducking his head underneath his counter and pulling out a bottle of wine and a glass. He filled it up for him, then handed him the glass. As Raeger prepared their meals Mistel noticed he kept glancing at Fritz with a longing look in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to wipe away his tears, or perhaps even kiss them away. He knew that look; it was one that Iris and Klaus used to give to each other whenever either of them was upset.

"Stop crying, Fritz," Raeger said in a pleading tone, sounding almost pained.

"I-Im sorry, I just don't think I'll ever find love," Fritz sobbed.

"Yes you will, you just have to wait for the right person," Raeger assured him, plating out Mistel and Beatrice's dishes. Raeger gently rubbed Fritz's forearm for a second, his eyes looking pained by Fritz's tears. "Mistel, it's ready," Raeger called after a moment.

Mistel strolled back over to the counter and gave Raeger a mischievous smirk, earning himself another scowl. Mistel carried the dishes back over to the table and set them both down.

"Thank you, darling," Beatrice said, hardly glancing up from the book she was reading. In any other situation he would have been angry with her for reading a book while they ate together, but today he was too invested in what was happening between Raeger and Fritz to care.

They ate in silence, Beatrice quickly finishing her meal while he picked at his. He kept looking over at Raeger and Fritz, noticing that at every chance Raeger could get he would touch Fritz; his forearm, his hand, even attempting to calm Fritz's unruly red hair by smoothing it down. Fritz brushed him away with his hand, his head hung low, and Raeger chuckled loudly; his eyes shining in adoration.

Mistel tapped his foot lightly upon Beatrice's leg to get her attention.

"Yes, darling?" she asked, glancing up from the book she was reading.

"Look over at Raeger and Fritz, but do so subtly so they don't notice," he whispered, leaning in close to her.

Beatrice pretended to yawn and stretched her arms high above her head, quickly glancing in their direction then back at him. She narrowed her eyes slightly and said, "Yes, what about them?"

"Excellent tactic, my love—and is something wrong with your head today? For one, it's awfully rude to be reading while we're eating with each other. I'm feeling ignored again, and if I recall correctly you said you'd be more cognizant of that. Also, how can you not see what's happening?" he said, keeping his voice low. There were only a few other people in the restaurant, and he knew that if Raeger heard him that he would immediately stop talking to Fritz.

"I'm sorry! This book is just so good, I can hardly put it down—and all I see is a rejected, slightly drunk Fritz with an exasperated looking Raeger."

"Then you're not looking close enough, or reading their body language, or even hearing their conversation! Now lean in close to me and look all starry-eyed like we're having an intimate, private conversation—and I'll do the same."

"You always look starry-eyed whenever you look at me, darling," Beatrice giggled slightly. She quirked an eyebrow and whispered, "Wait...what are you thinking? That they like each other?"

 _I always look starry-eyed?_ "I wasn't aware that my eyes twinkle when I look at you, but I suppose that I should have expected that—considering how much I love you," Mistel said in a teasing tone, and he felt his lips twitch into a smirk as Beatrice blushed. "And I'm trying to figure out if Fritz likes Raeger, but I am almost certain that Raeger is head-over-heels for that fool."

"No!" Beatrice gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. "Do you really think so?"

"I do," he replied simply.

"Fancy a wager?" Beatrice asked, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

"Goodness, it's like you've read my mind," Mistel teased, returning her smile. "I'm going to win though, you know? So place your bets accordingly."

"Hmm, we'll see about that," Beatrice teased back, her smile still plastered on her face. "What do you want if you win?"

 _What do I want if I win?_ He hesitated for a moment, then said boldly, "If I win—which I will—then I'd like for you to tie me up and do whatever you want to me."

Beatrice's whole face turned bright crimson while her mouth compressed into a straight line. " _Fine,_ " she scoffed after a minute, then said under her breath, "Pervert."

He smirked at her and asked, "And if you win?"

"Let me think about it," she replied, her flush slowly fading.

"Okay, now hush and listen closely; you can even glance over every once in a while but do so subtly, my dear. I wouldn't want to jeopardize our bet," he said in a low tone, giving her a small wink.

Mistel and Beatrice leaned in closer to each other, and he grabbed both of her hands to make it seem like they were invested in an intimate conversation. Out of the corner of his eye he watched and listened closely.

Fritz was leaning over the counter with the glass of wine in his hand, while Raeger stood on the other end of the counter looking quite displeased. "Aw, _man,_ Raeger! I still can't believe it! Another rejection! Iris told me to go for it, so I did—and look where it got me! While you got all the girls hangin' all over you, it's just not fair!" Fritz whined, then finished his glass in one swig and holding it out for Raeger to refill it.

"I don't really want the girls hanging all over me, y'know?" Raeger said in distaste as he refilled Fritz's glass.

"Why not?" Fritz snapped.

"Reasons..." Raeger's voice trailed off as he hung his head low.

"I heard another girl came all the way out of town just to confess to you again, and you just brushed her off! And I heard she was beautiful, too! Why do ya always do that?" Fritz slurred slightly, finishing his glass again and holding it out for Raeger to refill.

Raeger refilled his glass and sighed, "I just didn't like her. _Geez_ , Fritz, you're so nosy!"

"Why didn't ya like her? You never seem to like any of them! And you got no idea how jealous I am, you're the bane of unpopular guys everywhere!" Fritz exclaimed, finishing yet _another_ glass of wine and holding it out again.

"I just don't like them, Fritz! You're going to get really drunk if you keep going on like this, you've nearly finished this whole bottle of wine—and can you even pay for it?" Raeger growled, narrowing his eyes at Fritz, but still refilling his glass nonetheless.

"I t-think I can pay for it," Fritz sputtered, looking slightly horror-stricken.

"If you can't then it's all right, but this is the last time, understood?" Raeger asked sternly.

"Thanks man, you're the bee's knees!" Fritz giggled, tipping his head back and finishing his what, fourth glass? Mistel was beginning to lose count.

"No problem," Raeger muttered, but his eyes danced with mirth.

Mistel looked around the room and noticed the restaurant was completely empty now save for them and the two lovebirds. It was nearly time for the restaurant to close. Beatrice squeezed his hand to get his attention and mouthed, "I think you're wrong."

"Just wait," he mouthed back. He glanced sideways in the direction of Fritz and Raeger again, listening intensely.

"What happened to all your other girlfriends, bud? Why didn't you work out?" Fritz wondered.

"We just didn't fit," Raeger uttered, looking down again as he cleaned a glass.

"Woah, man! Like _sexually?_ " Fritz gasped, his mouth hanging open.

Raeger looked around the room and Mistel quickly looked back to Beatrice, giggling as if Beatrice had said something adorable, but in reality was giggling at Fritz's drunken forwardness.

Once Raeger was done scanning the room he lowered his voice and muttered, "Yeah, something like that."

Mistel mouthed at Beatrice, "See?"

"I'm still not convinced," she mouthed back.

Mistel looked at them again out of the corner of this eye, his ears perked up.

"I think you've had enough to drink now, Fritz. I know you're sad and all but now you're asking me all sorts of personal questions that I'd rather not answer. After I close the restaurant I'll make you something to eat," Raeger said frankly, grabbing the glass from Fritz's hand.

"Really?!" Fritz exclaimed, his eyes glistening in excitement. "Woo-hoo! Raeger, I love you, man!"

"Ew, don't say that, it's gross," Raeger said disdainfully, but his face betrayed him by turning bright red.

"Sorry, sorry," Fritz said defensively, putting his hands up. After a moment Fritz said hesitatingly in a low tone, "Y'know, Raeger, you're awfully pretty..."

"I-I'm pretty?" Raeger stammered, his cheeks turning a pink hue while he ran his hands through his hair. After a minute of a prolonged gaze his expression turned into one of anger, and he scowled at Fritz and said scornfully, "You just said that because you're drunk, Fritz. You don't mean it."

Fritz looked down at the counter and his face nearly turned the color of his hair. After a moment he said timidly, "Maybe you're right, but I don't know how to explain it... It's sort of like in the back of my head I always thought of you that way, but I only just realized it now. It's confusing."

" _That_ I can understand. I know all too well how confusing it can be," Raeger uttered, a lost look in his eyes for a moment.

"Really?!" Fritz exclaimed in astonishment, grinning his goofy smile.

"Really," Raeger replied, giving him a lopsided smile back.

Raeger leaned provocatively across the counter, as if forgetting that Mistel and Beatrice were still there, and said in a seductive tone, "If I'm pretty then you're really cute, Fritz. I know you're always calling yourself homely, but you're wrong." Raeger paused and softly bit on his lower lip, then ran his fingertips along Fritz's jawline. Fritz's mouth fell open and his cheeks turned scarlet. "You're freckles are so adorable, I'd like to kiss each and every one of them."

"A-are you serious? Or are you just tryin' to make me feel better?" Fritz asked in bewilderment.

"I'm very much serious," Raeger returned.

"You know I'm straight, erm...right? And aren't you..er, straight, too?" Fritz sputtered.

"If you were straight then why did you just call me pretty? And if I'm straight why would I call you adorable? Don't be the fool everyone takes you for, Fritz," Raeger lowly purred, his eyes dark with carnal desire.

Beatrice squeezed Mistel's hand tightly and silently gasped. "Wow," she mouthed.

"I told you I would be right," Mistel whispered.

Raeger suddenly realized that they were in the room and straightened his back, his face turning red in embarrassed. "Are you two leaving soon? You do know the restaurant is about to close, and I have to feed drunken Fritz."

"Yes, Raeger, we will be leaving now," Mistel returned with a smile. He stood and offered his hand to Beatrice, and she took it and stood with him; her mouth hanging slightly open. Mistel put money down on the table and said, "Thank you for the meal, it was delicious as always...and good luck with your... _friend_."

"Thanks," Raeger muttered. "Have a good evening, you two."

"Ah, and I hope you two have a good evening as well," Mistel said with a mischievous smirk.

As they walked out of the restaurant he could hear Raeger scolding Fritz, "You're filthy! After I feed you I'm giving you a bath."

"But you'd see me naked!" Fritz protested.

"And? I've seen myself naked, what difference is it to see you naked?"

"It makes a difference to me!"

"Fine, I'll make it a bubble bath so I don't see anything—and you're staying overnight. You're too drunk to go home tonight."

"Overnight?" Fritz squeaked.

"Yes, overnight! And I won't take no for an answer."

As they closed the door behind them Mistel erupted into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. He turned to Beatrice and sang, "I told you so."

" _Fine_ ," she huffed. "Raeger is gay, that whole conversation made it abundantly clear. But Fritz..."

"Fritz is bisexual, Beatrice, isn't that obvious?" he said with a smirk.

"Perhaps it was just the wine speaking," she muttered. "The bet's still on."

"How will we know for sure who won the bet, then?" he asked and quirked an eyebrow.

"I'll go see Fritz soon and ask him how his night went with Raeger. He considers me as one of his best friends, and I have no doubt he'll blurt out every single detail," she replied firmly.

"Ah, then you might hear something you may not want to hear—if I'm correct, that is," he said, still smirking at her. _And I will be correct._

"I'll deal," she said with a shrug.

Right before they reached the Piedmont area Mistel asked, "Would you like for me to walk you home?"

"No, that's quite all right. I know the mountain trail like the back of my hand, whereas you do not—and I'd worry about you walking home alone in the dark...I wouldn't be able to sleep soundly if I was worrying about whether or not you arrived home safely."

"Please, won't you allow me the honor of seeing you home? I'd like to spend more time with you," Mistel said. _And if I'm lucky enough perhaps I'll get another kiss._

"All right, _fine_. But only because I want to spend more time with you, too," Beatrice returned.

"Fantastic! Let's be off then, shall we?" Mistel said a bit too cheerfully.

As they made their up the mountain trail Beatrice hung her head low, her eyes fixated on her boots. She said lamentably, "Mistel, I'm sorry for reading a book while we were eating. You're right, there is something wrong with my head. After the other night, I should've known...I probably made you feel ignored again. _Ugh_ , I'm such an idiot! Stupid, stupid book."

She banged her fists against her head a couple of times, then Mistel grabbed her wrists to stop her. He said soothingly, "Hey, it's all right! Please, do not bang your fists against your head. I would have been angry, but, in reality, wasn't I ignoring you as well? If I had asked you to put the book away we could have had a wonderful night. You see, it's my fault. I was too invested in hearing Raeger's and Fritz's conversation. So for that, I deeply apologize."

Beatrice looked into his eyes, and he noticed that her lashes were beaded with tears. He felt his heart sink into his stomach, but it was only for a moment, as Beatrice began to laugh loudly. After a minute of calming herself she said, still laughing slightly, "You're too good for me, you know that? Perhaps this is all a dream... I'm truly starting to believe that now. You're insane if you don't run away as fast as you can. Here's your chance. Leave me now before either of our hearts are broken."

Beatrice's words ran through his head over and over again for at least a minute. He stared at her blankly and blinked at her a few times. After a moment he erupted into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. Beatrice glared at him. He tried his utmost hardest to stifle them, but he couldn't get himself to stop; his giggling lasting two minutes then eventually subsiding.

"It is better to have loved and to have lost then to have never loved at all," Mistel said after a moment. "I think you are too good for me, so why don't we just agree to disagree? And if I'm running anywhere it will be to you. Don't be absurd. How could you ever think I would run away from you? Do you think my feelings would just simply go away, that I would stop thinking about you day and night? Goodness, Beatrice, you've even found your way into my dreams. I refuse your offer. I will not be leaving you until you want me to leave."

Beatrice flashed him her brilliant smile, her adorable dimples showing, and entwined her fingers in his blond lock. She pulled him down to her and firmly pressed her lips to his for a second. When she pulled away her smile was still on her face, and she said with glistening eyes, "You fool. That was your chance."

Mistel gave a short laugh. He poked her in the side and said, "You, my love, are the one being foolish."

Beatrice poked him back, a little harder than he poked her, and giggled, "That's no proper way to speak to your lover."

"Ah, it's not, is it?" Mistel said in a teasing tone, poking her in the side again.

Beatrice ran further up the trail, laughing, "No, I don't believe it is!"

Mistel ran after her and poked her in the side again. She gave him a mock glare then poked him back. She ran away again and Mistel followed her; both of them giggling and laughing as they took turns poking each other.

Before they knew it they found themselves out front of Beatrice's farm entrance. They both panted, gasping for air while still laughing slightly. Mistel couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun. Before he could catch his breath Beatrice wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him again; except this kiss wasn't nearly as chaste as the last one. She moved her mouth hungrily against his, tilting her head back and forth as if she couldn't get enough of his taste.

Mistel felt himself become feverish. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and as the seconds ticked by his hands began to wander a little further south. Right before he reached her bottom Beatrice grabbed both of his hands and held them in front of her. She broke their lips apart. She said a bit breathlessly, "Come back to my house. Spend the night with me."

Mistel felt as if his head might implode. He wanted nothing more than to spend the night with her, but they hadn't even talked about how slow they wanted to take things; about how comfortable they were with doing anything other than kissing. Plus, he knew she was intoxicated with attention at the moment, and he didn't want her to regret anything once the adrenaline wore off.

Before Mistel could respond he heard a voice he knew very well—Agate's—and both him and Beatrice jumped slightly. It was so dark out they hadn't noticed her crouched down, talking to a rabbit only a few feet away.

"They've only been on a few dates, and have hardly been dating for a week," Agate said in her usual sweet, cheerful voice to the rabbit. "Do you really think it's appropriate for her to be inviting him in like that?"

"Is...Agate calling me a whore to that rabbit?" Beatrice asked, her tone raising higher with every word.

"Beatrice, ignore her," Mistel nearly pleaded. The last thing he wanted was for Beatrice to pick a fight with Agate. "Let me take you home now, please."

"No, I want to know," Beatrice hissed. She raised her voice slightly, nearly growling, "Agate, are you calling me a whore?"

Agate looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes. She insisted, "Oh, no, Bee! I just don't think it's appropriate. Maybe you should think it over."

"And maybe you should mind your own damn business," Beatrice spat, glaring daggers at Agate. "You know what? I think you're just jealous. You no longer have Mistel to visit you until ungodly hours making sure you don't trip and hurt yourself."

"Uh, well, Mistel does still visit me at night sometimes..." Agate said hesitatingly.

Beatrice turned her glare to Mistel and boomed, "You _what_? You must be kidding me, right?"

"Beatrice, Agate and I are just simply friends. Purely platonic, I assure you," Mistel said calmly.

Beatrice huffed loudly and stomped her foot, then turned on her heel and slowly walked away onto her farm; her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Mistel could nearly see the steam emitting from her.

He turned to Agate and said flatly, "I would greatly appreciate it if you wouldn't imply my girlfriend is a whore, even if you're just talking to a rabbit."

Mistel could hear Agate apologizing as he ran after Beatrice. When he caught up to her she was nearly at her front door. He gently grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face him. She shook him off of her with a scowl on her face. He attempted to speak, "Beatrice—"

"No, I don't want to hear it," she said sternly. "If Agate thinks I'm a whore then I suppose the whole town does, too. Why don't you just walk Agate home and spend a couple of hours with her, I'm sure you'd rather do that then spend a couple of hours with me."

Mistel tried his hardest to suppress a smile. Was Beatrice really jealous of Agate? He found that hilarious; Agate didn't even hold a candle next to Beatrice. He beamed at her and said, "No one thinks you're a whore. Agate talks to animals, my love, so if it bothers you that animals may think of you that way then perhaps you need your head checked more than Agate...and are you jealous?"

Beatrice huffed again. "Perhaps I'm a little jealous. I wasn't aware you were still going to Agate's house so late. Do you know how that looks?"

"I never really gave it much thought, but you're correct. I wouldn't be very thrilled if you were over another man's house so late," Mistel said. "I apologize. If you don't want me over Agate's so late anymore I completely understand."

"Thank you," Beatrice sighed. "That would be great if you would do that for me... Of course I still want you to be friends with her, as you have so little as is, but going over her house so late is unacceptable. I know she has a thing for you, and being there so late...well, it worries me."

"Worries you? As in, you think I would cheat on you?" Mistel asked bewilderingly. "I would never do such a thing! I would never do such an atrocious thing to you, that's disgusting. Despicable, even. So don't give that another thought."

"All right, I won't. I suppose I just overacted a bit..." Beatrice's voice trailed off. She cast her ruby eyes to the ground for a moment, absentmindedly tracing circles with her boot on the grass. She nearly whispered, "So, are you not going to spend the night with me?"

"I'm afraid not, my love," Mistel said soothingly, gently lifting her chin to meet her eyes, "We haven't even talked about how comfortable we are with going any further in our relationship, and even if all I did was simply sleep I'm not positive we could keep our hands to ourselves. Lately, whenever we kiss, it's been very passionate. I can't be positive if either of us would be able to control our urges—which is completely normal, I'm just not ready. It's far too early in our relationship to do anything more than kiss. I'm very sorry, my dear, I just cannot jeopardize our relationship because we want to jump each other's bones. I hope you can understand."

"I understand," Beatrice said softly. "I didn't invite you in for sex, just so you know. But you are correct, as always. We probably wouldn't be able to keep our hands to ourselves, and we do need to talk...but I'm afraid I can't at the moment. I'm pretty angry and I think my mind needs to be in a better place to talk about such things."

"That's perfectly fine, we can talk about it whenever you're ready," Mistel said, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. "I think I should be off now, if that is all right with you."

"Yes, of course, go home and sleep," Beatrice said quickly. "I'll come see you soon. Goodnight, darling."

Mistel leaned down slightly and softly pressed his lips to hers. After a moment he broke them apart and leaned his forehead against hers. He hoarsely whispered, "Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams. _Je t'aime,_ and I always will."

He kissed her heated cheek and turned around. As he walked away he could heard Beatrice call after him, "I love you, too, darling! Dream of me!"

Mistel couldn't help but to giggle at that. Even if he didn't want to he would still dream of her; he had no choice in the matter.

When he walked off of her property he saw that Agate was still there, and she tried to talk to him but he ignored her completely; not even glancing in her direction, acting as if she wasn't even there. He had no doubt that he would be angry with her for quite some time.

As Mistel walked home he pondered why Beatrice wanted him to spend the night with her. Did she want to talk? Did she want to kiss some more? Or perhaps she just wanted to be in his presence for a while longer? He would never be able to decode what she was actually thinking, and for some strange reason he enjoyed that mysterious part of her.

Mistel knew he needed to talk to her—and soon.


End file.
